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"  Looking  over  his  shoulder,  Graham  saiv  approaching  a  very  short,  fat,  and  thiclcset  beardless 
man,  with  aquiline  nose  and  heavy  neck  and  chin."— Pa^e  33. 


Frontispiece 


When  the 
Sleeper  Wakes 

By  H.  G.  WELLS,  Juthor 
of  "  The  Invisible  Man " 
''The  War  of  the  Worlds'' 

WITH      ILLUSTRATIONS 


HARPER  ^  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 
LONDON     AND     NEW     YORK 

1899 


Copyright,  1899,  by  Harper  <V  Brothers 


All  rights  reserved 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. 

I.   INSOMNIA. 
II.   THE  TRANCE      . 

III.  THE   AWAKENING       . 

IV.  THE  SOUND  OF  A   TUMULT 
V.  THE   MOVING   WAYS  . 

VI.   THE   HALL  OF  THE   ATLAS 
VII.    IN   THE    SILENT   ROOMS      . 
VIII.   THE   ROOF   SPACES     . 
IX.   THE   PEOPLE   MARCH 
X.   THE   BATTLE  OF  THE   DARKNESS 
XI.   THE   OLD   MAN   WHO   KNEW   EVERYTHING 
XII.   OSTROG       .  .  •  .  . 

XIII.  THE  END  OF  THE   OLD   ORDER 

XIV.  FROM   THE   CROW'S   NEST. 
XV.    PROMINENT   PEOPLE 

XVI.   THE   AEROPILE. 
XVn.   THREE   DAYS      . 
XVIII.   GRAHAM   REMEMBERS 
XIX.   OSTROG's   POINT   OF   VIEW 
XX.   IN   THE   CITY  WAYS  . 
XXI.   THE   UNDER-SIDE 
XXII.    THE  STRUGGLE   IN   THE  COUNCIL-HOUSE 
XXIII.   WHILE  THE  AEROPLANES  WERE   COMING 
XXIV.  THE  COMING  OF  THE  AEROPLANES 


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57 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


Looking  over  his  shoulder,  Graham  saw  approaching 
a  very  short,  fat,  and  thickset  beardless  man, 
with   aquiline  nose  and  heccvy  neck  and  chin. 

Frontispiece 

PAGB 

He  went  to  the  railings  of  the  balcony  and  leant 
forward.  .  .  .  The  place  into  which  he  looked 
was  an  aisle  of  Titanic  buildings,  curving  away 
in  a  Spacious  sweep  in  either  direction ...       45 

Broken  masses  of  metal  projected  dismally  from  the 
complex  wreckage,  vast  masses  of  twisted  cable 
dropped  like  tangled  seaweed.  .  .  .All  about 
this  great  white  pile  was  a  ring  of  desolation       .     1 53 


42585''^ 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 


CHAPTER  I 

INSOMNIA 

One  afternoon,  at  low  water,  Mr,  Isbister,  a  young 
artist  lodging  at  Boscastle,  walked  from  that  place  to 
the  picturesque  cove  of  Pentargen,  desiring  to  examine 
the  caves  there.  Halfway  down  the  precipitous  path 
to  the  Pentargen  beach  he  came  suddenly  upon  a  man 
sitting  in  an  attitude  of  profound  distress  beneath 
a  projecting  mass  of  rock.  The  hands  of  this  man 
hung  limply  over  his  knees,  his  eyes  were  red  and 
staring  before  him,  and  his  face  was  wet  with  tears. 

He  glanced  round  at  Isbister's  footfall.  Both  men 
were  disconcerted,  Isbister  the  more  so,  and,  to  over- 
ride the  awkwardness  of  his  involuntary  pause,  he 
remarked,  with  an  air  of  mature  conviction,  that  the 
weather  was  hot  for  the  time  of  year. 

"  Very,"  answered  the  stranger  shortly,  hesitated  a 
second,  and  added  in  a  colourless  tone,  "  I  can't  sleep." 

Isbister  stopped  abruptly.  "  No?  "  was  all  he  said, 
but  his  bearing  conveyed  his  helpful  impulse. 

"  It  may  sound  incredible,"  said  the  stranger,  turn- 
ing weary  eyes  to  Isbister's  face  and  emphasizing  his 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

words  with  a  languid  hand,  "  but  I  have  had  no  sleep 
—  no  sleep  at  all  for  six  nights." 

"  Had  advice?  " 

"  Yes.  Bad  advice  for  the  most  part.  Drugs.  My 
nervous  system.  .  .  .  They  are  all  very  well  for 
the  run  of  people.  It's  hard  to  explain.  I  dare  not 
take    .    .    .    sufficiently  powerful  drugs." 

"  That  makes  it  difficult,"  said  Isbister. 

He  stood  helplessly  in  the  narrow  path,  perplexed 
what  to  do.  Clearly  the  man  wanted  to  talk.  An  idea 
natural  enough  under  the  circumstances,  prompted 
him  to  keep  the  conversation  going.  "  I've  never  suf- 
fered from  sleeplessness  myself,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of 
commonplace  gossip,  "  but  in  those  cases  I  have 
known,  people  have  usually  found  something  —  " 

"  I  dare  make  no  experiments." 

He  spoke  wearily.  He  gave  a  gesture  of  rejection, 
and  for  a  space  both  men  were  silent. 

"Exercise?"  suggested  Isbister  diffidently,  with  a 
glance  from  his  interlocutor's  face  of  wretchedness  to 
the  touring  costume  he  wore. 

"  That  is  what  I  have  tried.  Unwisely  perhaps.  I 
have  followed  the  coast,  day  after  day  —  from  New 
Quay.  It  has  only  added  muscular  fatigue  to  the 
mental.  The  cause  of  this  unrest  was  overwork  — ' 
trouble.     There  was  something  —  " 

He  stopped  as  if  from  sheer  fatigue.  He  rubbed  his 
forehead  with  a  lean  hand.  He  resumed  speech  like 
one  who  talks  to  himself. 

"  I  am  a  lone  wolf,  a  solitary  man,  wandering 
through  a  world  in  which  I  have  no  part.  I  am  wife- 
less —  childless  —  who  is  it  speaks  of  the  childless  as 

2 


INSOMNIA 

the  dead  twigs  on  the  tree  of  life?  I  am  wifeless, 
childless  —  I  could  find  no  duty  to  do.  No  desire 
even  in  my  heart.  One  thing  at  last  I  set  myself 
to  do. 

"  I  said,  I  zvill  do  this,  and  to  do  it,  to  overcome  the 
inertia  of  this  dull  body,  I  resorted  to  drugs.  Great 
God,  I've  had  enough  of  drugs!  I  don't  know  if  yoii 
feel  the  heavy  inconvenience  of  the  body,  its  exas- 
perating demand  of  time  from  the  mind  —  time  — 
life!  Live!  We  only  live  in  patches.  We  have  to 
eat,  and  then  comes  the  dull  digestive  complacen- 
cies —  or  irritations.  We  have  to  take  the  air  or  else 
our  thoughts  grow  sluggish,  stupid,  run  into  gulfs 
and  blind  alleys.  A  thousand  distractions  arise  from 
within  and  without,  and  then  comes  drowsiness  and 
sleep.  Men  seem  to  live  for  sleep.  How  little  of  a 
man's  day  is  his  own  —  even  at  the  best!  And  then 
come  those  false  friends,  those  Thug  helpers,  the 
alkaloids  that  stifle  natural  fatigue  and  kill  rest  — 
black  coffee,  cocaine  — " 

"  I  see,"  said  Isbister. 

"  I  did  my  work,"  said  the  sleepless  man  with  a 
querulous  intonation. 

"  And  this  is  the  price?  " 

"  Yes." 

For  a  little  while  the  two  remained  without 
speaking, 

"  You  cannot  imagine  the  craving  for  rest  that  I 
feel  —  a  hunger  and  thirst.  For  six  long  days,  since 
my  work  was  done,  my  mind  has  been  a  whirlpool, 
swift,    unprogressive    and    incessant,    a    torrent    of 

3 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

thoughts  leading  nowhere,  spinning  round  swift  and 
steady  — " 

He  paused.     "  Towards  the  gulf." 

"  You  must  sleep,"  said  Isbister  decisively,  and 
with  an  air  of  a  remedy  discovered.  "  Certainly  you 
must  sleep." 

"  My  mind  is  perfectly  lucid.  It  was  never  clearer. 
But  I  know  I  am  drawing  towards  the  vortex. 
Presently  — " 

"Yes?" 

"  You  have  seen  things  go  down  an  eddy?  Out  of 
the  light  of  the  day,  out  of  this  sweet  world  of  sanity  — 
down  — " 

"  But,"  expostulated  Isbister. 

The  man  threw  out  a  hand  towards  him,  and  his 
eyes  were  wild,  and  his  voice  suddenly  high.  "  I  shall 
kill  myself.  If  in  no  other  way  —  at  the  foot  of  yon- 
der dark  precipice  there,  where  the  waves  are  green, 
and  the  white  surge  hfts  and  falls,  and  that  little 
thread  of  water  trembles  down.  There  at  any  rate  is 
.    .    .    sleep." 

"  That's  unreasonable,"  said  Isbister,  startled  at  the 
man's  hysterical  gust  of  emotion.  "  Drugs  are  better 
than  that." 

"  There  at  any  rate  is  sleep,"  repeated  the  stranger, 
not  heeding  him. 

Isbister  looked  at  him  and  wondered  transitorily  if 
some  complex  Providence  had  indeed  brought  them 
together  that  afternoon.  "  It's  not  a  cert,  you  know," 
he  remarked.  "  There's  a  cliff  like  that  at  Lulworth 
Cove  —  as  high,  anyhow  —  and  a  little  girl  fell  from 

4 


INSOMNIA 

top  to  bottom.     And  lives  to-day  —  sound  and  well." 

"  But  those  rocks  there?" 

"  One  might  lie  on  them  rather  dismally  through  a 
cold  night,  broken  bones  grating  as  one  shivered,  chill 
water  splashing  over  you.     Eh?  " 

Their  eyes  met.  "  Sorry  to  upset  your  ideals,"  said 
Isbister  with  a  sense  of  devil-may-careish  brilliance. 
"  But  a  suicide  over  that  cliff  (or  any  cliff  for  the  mat- 
ter of  that),  really,  as  an  artist — "  He  laughed. 
"  It's  so  damned  amateurish." 

"  But  the  other  thing,"  said  the  sleepless  man  irri- 
tably, "  the  other  thing.  No  man  can  keep  sane  if 
night  after  night — " 

"  Have  you  been  walking  along  this  coast  alone?" 
•     "  Yes." 

"  Silly  sort  of  thing  to  do.  If  you'll  excuse  my 
saying  so.  Alone!  As  you  say;  body  fag  is  no  cure 
for  brain  fag.  Who  told  you  to?  No  wonder; 
walking!  And  the  sun  on  your  head,  heat,  fag,  soli- 
tude, all  the  day  long,  and  then,  I  suppose,  you  go  to 
bed  and  try  very  hard  —  eh?  " 

Isbister  stopped  short  and  looked  at  the  sufferer 
doubtfully. 

"  Look  at  these  rocks!  "  cried  the  seated  man  with 
a  sudden  force  of  gesture.  "  Look  at  that  sea  that 
has  shone  and  quivered  there  for  ever!  See  the  white 
spume  rush  into  darkness  under  that  great  cliff.  And 
this  blue  vault,  with  the  blinding  sun  pouring  from 
the  dome  of  it.  It  is  your  world.  You  accept  it,  you 
rejoice  in  it.  It  warms  and  supports  and  delights  you. 
And  for  me  — " 

He  turned  his  head  and  showed  a  ghastly  face, 
5 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

bloodshot  pallid  eyes  and  bloodless  lips.  He  spoke 
almost  in  a  whisper.  "  It  is  the  garment  of  my  mis- 
ery. The  whole  world  ...  .  is  the  garment  of 
my  misery." 

Isbister  looked  at  all  the  wild  beauty  of  the  sunlit 
cliffs  about  them  and  back  to  that  face  of  despair. 
For  a  moment  he  was  silent. 

He  started,  and  made  a  gesture  of  impatient  rejec- 
tion. "  You  get  a  night's  sleep,"  he  said,  "  and  you 
won't  see  much  misery  out  here.  Take  my  word 
for  it." 

He  was  quite  sure  now  that  this  was  a  providential 
encounter.  Only  half  an  hour  ago  he  had  been  feel- 
ing horribly  bored.  Here  was  employment  the  bare 
thought  of  which  was  righteous  self-applause.  He 
took  possession  forthwith.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the 
first  need  of  this  exhausted  being  was  companionship. 
He  flung  himself  down  on  the  steeply  sloping  turf 
beside  the  motionless  seated  figure,  and  deployed 
forthwith  into  a  skirmishing  line  of  gossip. 

His  hearer  seemed  to  have  lapsed  into  apathy; 
he  stared  dismally  seaward,  and  spoke  only  in  answer 
to  Isbister's  direct  questions  —  and  not  to  all  of  those. 
But  he  made  no  sign  of  objection  to  this  benevolent 
intrusion  upon  his  despair. 

In  a  helpless  way  he  seemed  even  grateful,  and 
when  presently  Isbister,  feeling  that  his  unsupported 
talk  was  losing  vigour,  suggested  that  they  should 
reascend  the  steep  and  return  towards  Boscastle, 
alleging  the  view  into  Blackapit,  he  submitted  quietly. 
Halfway  up  he  began  talking  to  himself,  and  abruptly 
turned  a  ghastly  face  on  his  helper.     "  What  can  be 

6 


INSOMNIA 

happening?"  he  asked  with  a  gaunt  illustrative  hand. 
"  What  can  be  happening?  Spin,  spin,  spin,  spin.  It 
goes  round  and  round,  round  and  round  for  ever- 
more." 

He  stood  with  his  hand  circling. 

"  It's  all  right,  old  chap,"  said  Isbister  with  the  air 
of  an  old  friend.  "  Don't  worry  yourself.  Trust  to 
me." 

The  man  dropped  his  hand  and  turned  again.  They 
went  over  the  brow  in  single  file  and  to  the  headland 
beyond  Penally,  with  the  sleepless  man  gesticulating 
ever  and  again,  and  speaking  fragmentary  things  con- 
cerning his  whirling  brain.  At  the  headland  they 
stood  for  a  space  by  the  seat  that  looks  into  the  dark 
mysteries  of  Blackapit,  and  then  he  sat  down.  Isbister 
had  resumed  his  talk  whenever  the  path  had  widened 
sufficiently  for  them  to  walk  abreast.  He  was  enlarg- 
ing upon  the  complex  difficulty  of  making  Boscastle 
Harbour  in  bad  weather,  when  suddenly  and  quite 
irrelevantly  his  companion  interrupted  him  again. 

"  My  head  is  not  like  what  it  was,"  he  said,  gesticu- 
lating for  want  of  expressive  phrases.  "  It's  not  like 
what  it  was.  There  is  a  sort  of  oppression,  a  weight. 
No  —  not  drowsiness,  would  God  it  were !  It  is  like 
a  shadow,  a  deep  shadow  falling  suddenly  and  swiftly 
across  something  busy.  Spin,  spin  into  the  darkness. 
The  tumult  of  thought,  the  confusion,  the  eddy  and 
eddy.  I  can't  express  it.  I  can  hardly  keep  my  mind 
on  it  —  steadily  enough  to  tell  you." 

He  stopped  feebly. 

"  Don't  trouble,  old  chap,"  said  Isbister.    "  I  think 

7 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

I  can  understand.     At  any  rate,  it  don't  matter  very 
much  just  at  present  about  telling  me,  you  know." 

The  sleepless  man  thrust  his  knuckles  into  his  eyes 
and  rubbed  them.  Isbister  talked  for  awhile  while 
this  rubbing  continued,  and  then  he  had  a  fresh  idea. 
"  Come  down  to  my  room,"  he  said,  "  and  try  a  pipe. 
I  can  show  you  some  sketches  of  this  Blackapit.  If 
you'd  care?  '' 

The  other  rose  obediently  and  followed  him  down 
the  steep. 

Several  times  Isbister  heard  him  stumble  as  they 
came  down,  and  his  movements  were  slow  and  hesi- 
tating. "  Come  in  with  me,"  said  Isbister,  "  and  try 
some  cigarettes  and  the  blessed  gift  of  alcohol.  If 
you  take  alcohol?" 

The  stranger  hesitated  at  the  garden  gate.  He 
seemed  no  longer  clearly  aware  of  his  actions.  "  I 
don't  drink,"  he  said  slowly,  coming  up  the  garden 
path,  and  after  a  moment's  interval  repeated  absently, 
"  No  —  I  don't  drink.  It  goes  round.  Spin,  it  goes 
—  spin  — " 

He  stumbled  at  the  doorstep  and  entered  the  room 
with  the  bearing  of  one  who  sees  nothing. 

Then  he  sat  down  abruptly  and  heavily  in  the  easy 
chair,  seemed  almost  to  fall  into  it.  He  leant  forward 
with  his  brows  on  his  hands  and  became  motionless. 

Presently  he  made  a  faint  sound  in  his  throat. 
Isbister  moved  about  the  room  with  the  nervousness 
of  an  inexperienced  host,  making  little  remarks  that 
scarcely  required  answering.  He  crossed  the  room 
to  his  portfolio,  placed  it  on  the  table  and  noticed 
the  mantel  clock. 

8 


INSOMNIA 

"  I  don't  know  if  you'd  care  to  have  supper  with 
me,"  he  said  with  an  unHghted  cigarette  in  his  hand  — 
his  mind  troubled  with  a  design  of  the  furtive  admin- 
istration of  chloral.  "  Only  cold  mutton,  you  know, 
but  passing  sweet.  Welsh.  And  a  tart,  I  believe." 
He  repeated  this  after  momentary  silence. 

The  seated  man  made  no  answer.  Isbister  stopped, 
match  in  hand,  regarding  him. 

The  stillness  lengthened.  The  match  went  out,  the 
cigarette  was  put  down  unlit.  The  man  was  certainly 
very  still.  Isbister  took  up  the  portfolio,  opened  it, 
put  it  down,  hesitated,  seemed  about  to  speak. 
"  Perhaps,"  he  whispered  doubtfully.  Presently  he 
glanced  at  the  door  and  back  to  the  figure.  Then  he 
stole  on  tiptoe  out  of  the  room,  glancing  at  his  com- 
panion after  each  elaborate  pace. 

He  closed  the  door  noiselessly.  The  house  door 
was  standing  open,  and  he  went  out  beyond  the  porch, 
and  stood  where  the  monkshood  rose  at  the  corner 
of  the  garden  bed.  From  this  point  he  could  see  the 
stranger  through  the  open  window,  still  and  dim, 
sitting  head  on  hand.     He.  had  not  moved. 

A  number  of  children  going  along  the  road  stopped 
and  regarded  the  artist  curiously.  A  boatman  ex- 
changed civilities  with  him.  He  felt  that  possibly  his 
circumspect  attitude  and  position  seemed  peculiar  and 
unaccountable.  Smoking,  perhaps,  might  seem  more 
natural.  He  drew  pipe  and  pouch  from  his  pocket, 
filled  the  pipe  slowly. 

"  I  wonder,"  ...  he  said,  with  a  scarcely  per- 
ceptible loss  of  complacency.     "  At  any  rate  one  must 

9 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

give  him  a  chance."  He  struck  a  match  in  the  virile 
way,  and  proceeded  to  Hght  his  pipe. 

Presently  he  heard  his  landlady  behind  him,  coming 
with  his  lamp  lit  from  the  kitchen.  He  turned,  ges- 
ticulating with  his  pipe,  and  stopped  her  at  the  door 
of  his  sitting-room.  He  had  some  difficulty  in  ex- 
plaining the  situation  in  whispers,  for  she  did  not 
know  he  had  a  visitor.  She  retreated  again  with  the 
lamp,  still  a  little  mystified  to  judge  from  her  manner, 
and  he  resumed  his  hovering  at  the  corner  of  the 
porch,  flushed  and  less  at  his  ease. 

Long  after  he  had  smoked  out  his  pipe,  and  when 
the  bats  were  abroad,  his  curiosity  dominated  his 
complex  hesitations,  and  he  stole  back  into  his  dark- 
ling sitting-room.  He  paused  in  the  doorway.  The 
stranger  was  still  in  the  same  attitude,  dark  against 
the  window.  Save  for  the  singing  of  some  sailors 
aboard  one  of  the  little  slate-carrying  ships  in  the  har- 
bour, the  evening  was  very  still.  Outside,  the  spikes 
of  monkshood  and  delphinium  stood  erect  and  motion- 
less against  the  shadow  of  the  hillside.  Something 
flashed  into  Isbister's  mind;  he  started,  and  leaning 
over  the  table,  listened.  An  unpleasant  suspicion 
grew  stronger;  became  conviction.  Astonishment 
seized  him  and  became  —  dread ! 

No  sound  of  breathing  came  from  the  seated  figure! 

He  crept  slowly  and  noiselessly  round  the  table, 
pausing  twice  to  listen.  At  last  he  could  lay  his  hand 
on  the  back  of  the  armchair.  He  bent  down  until  the 
two  heads  were  ear  to  ear. 

Then  he  bent  still  lower  to  look  up  at  his  visitor's 


INSOMNIA 

face.  He  started  violently  and  uttered  an  exclama- 
tion.    The  eyes  were  void  spaces  of  white. 

He  looked  again  and  saw  that  they  were  open  and 
with  the  pupils  rolled  under  the  lids.  He  was  sud- 
denly afraid.  Overcome  by  the  strangeness  of  the 
man's  condition,  he  took  him  by  the  shoulder  and 
shook  him.  "  Are  you  asleep?  "  he  said,  with  his  voice 
jumping  into  alto,  and  again,  "Are  you  asleep?" 

A  conviction  took  possession  of  his  mind  that  this 
man  was  dead.  He  suddenly  became  active  and 
noisy,  strode  across  the  room,  blundering  against  the 
table  as  he  did  so,  and  rang  the  bell. 

"  Please  bring  a  light  at  once,"  he  said  in  the  pas- 
sage.    "  There  is  something  wrong  with  my  friend." 

Then  he  returned  to  the  motionless  seated  figure, 
grasped  the  shoulder,  shook  it,  and  shouted.  The 
room  was  flooded  with  yellow  glare  as  his  astonished 
landlady  entered  with  the  light.  His  face  was  white 
as  he  turned  blinking  towards  her.  "  I  must  fetch 
a  doctor  at  once,"  he  said.  "  It  is  either  death  or  a 
fit.  Is  there  a  doctor  in  the  village?  Where  is  a 
doctor  to  be  found?  " 


zi 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  TRANCE 

The  State  of  cataleptic  rigour  into  which  this  man 
had  fallen,  lasted  for  an  unprecedented  length  of  time, 
and  then  he  passed  slowly  to  the  flaccid  state,  to  a  lax 
attitude  suggestive  of  profound  repose.  Then  it  was 
his  eyes  could  be  closed. 

He  was  removed  from  the  hotel  to  the  Boscastle 
surgery,  and  from  the  surgery,  after  some  weeks,  to 
London.  But  he  still  resisted  every  attempt  at  reani- 
mation.  After  a  time,  for  reasons  that  will  appear 
later,  these  attempts  were  discontinued.  For  a  great 
space  he  lay  in  that  strange  condition,  inert  and  still  — • 
neither  dead  nor  living  but,  as  it  were,  suspended, 
hanging  midway  between  nothingness  and  existence. 
His  was  a  darkness  unbroken  by  a  ray  of  thought  or 
sensation,  a  dreamless  inanition,  a  vast  space  of  peace. 
The  tumult  of  his  mind  had  swelled  and  risen  to  an 
abrupt  climax  of  silence.  Where  was  the  man? 
Where  is  any  man  when  insensibility  takes  hold  of 
him? 

"  It  seems  only  yesterday,"  said  Isbister.  "  I 
remember  it  all  as  though  it  happened  yesterday  — 
clearer  perhaps,  than  if  it  had  happened  yesterday." 

It  was  the  Isbister  of  the  last  chapter,  but  he  was 
no  longer  a  young  man.  The  hair  that  had  been 
brown  and  a  trifle  in  excess  of  the  fashionable  length, 

12 


THE  TRANCE 

was  iron  grey  and  clipped  close,  and  the  face  that  had 
been  pink  and  white  was  buff  and  ruddy.  He  had  a 
pointed  beard  shot  with  grey.  He  talked  to  an  elderly 
man  who  wore  a  summer  suit  of  drill  (the  summer  of 
that  year  was  unusually  hot).  This  was  Warming,  a 
London  solicitor  and  next  of  kin  to  Graham,  the  man 
who  had  fallen  into  the  trance.  And  the  two  men 
stood  side  by  side  in  a  room  in  a  house  in  London 
regarding  his  recumbent  figure. 

It  was  a  yellow  figure  lying  lax  upon  a  water-bed 
and  clad  in  a  flowing  shirt,  a  figure  with  a  shrunken 
face  and  a  stubby  beard,  lean  limbs  and  lank  nails,  and 
about  it  was  a  case  of  thin  glass.  This  glass  seemed 
to  mark  off  the  sleeper  from  the  reality  of  life  about 
him,  he  was  a  thing  apart,  a  strange,  isolated  abnor- 
mality. The  two  men  stood  close  to  the  glass, 
peering  in. 

"The  thing  gave  me  a  shock,"  said  Isbister.  "  I 
feel  a  queer  sort  of  surprise  even  now  when  I  think  of 
his  white  eyes.  They  were  white,  you  know,  rolled 
up.     Coming  here  again  brings  it  all  back  to  me." 

"  Have  you  never  seen  him  since  that  time?  "  asked 
Warming. 

"Often  wanted  to  come,"  said  Isbister;  "but  busi- 
ness nowadays  is  too  serious  a  thing  for  much  holiday 
keeping.     I've  been  in  America  most  of  the  time." 

"  If  I  remember  rightly,"  said  Warming,  "  you  were 
an  artist?  " 

"  Was.  And  then  I  became  a  married  man.  I  saw 
it  was  all  up  with  black  and  white,  very  soon  —  at 
least  for  a  mediocre  man,  and  I  jumped  on  to  process. 

13 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Those  posters   on   the   CUffs   at   Dover   are   by   my 
people." 

"  Good  posters,"  admitted  the  soHcitor,  "  though  I 
was  sorry  to  see  them  there." 

"  Last  as  long  as  the  cliffs,  if  necessary,"  exclaimed 
Isbister  with  satisfaction.  "  The  world  changes. 
When  he  fell  asleep,  twenty  years  ago,  I  was  down 
at  Boscastle  with  a  box  of  water-colours  and  a  noble, 
old-fashioned  ambition.  I  didn't  expect  that  some 
day  my  pigments  would  glorify  the  whole  blessed  coast 
of  England,  from  Land's  End  round  again  to  the  Liz- 
ard. Luck  comes  to  a  man  very  often  when  he's  not 
looking." 

Warming  seemed  to  doubt  the  quality  of  the  luck. 
"  I  just  missed  seeing  you,  if  I  recollect  aright." 

"  You  came  back  by  the  trap  that  took  me  to  Camel- 
ford  railway  station.  It  was  close  on  the  Jubilee,  Vic- 
toria's Jubilee,  because  I  remember  the  seats  and  flags 
in  Westminster,  and  the  row  with  the  cabman  at 
Chelsea." 

"The  Diamond  Jubilee,  it  was,"  said  Warming; 
"  the  second  one." 

"  Ah,  yes!  At  the  proper  Jubilee  —  the  Fifty  Year 
affair  —  I  was  down  at  Wookey  —  a  boy.  I  missed 
all  that.  .  .  .  What  a  fuss  we  had  with  him!  My 
landlady  wouldn't  take  him  in,  wouldn't  let  him  stay  — 
he  looked  so  queer  when  he  was  rigid.  We  had  to 
carry  him  in  a  chair  up  to  the  hotel.  And  the  Bos- 
castle doctor  —  it  wasn't  the  present  chap,  but  the 
G.  P.  before  him  —  was  at  him  until  nearly  two,  with 
me  and  the  landlord  holding  lights  and  so  forth." 

"  It  was  a  cataleptic  rigour  at  first,  wasn't  it?  " 
14 


THE  TRANCE 

"Stiff!  —  wherever  you  bent  him  he  stuck.  You 
might  have  stood  him  on  his  head  and  he'd  have 
stopped.  I  never  saw  such  stiffness.  Of  course  this  " 
—  he  indicated  the  prostrate  figure  by  a  movement  of 
his  head  —  "  is  quite  different.  And,  of  course,  the 
httle  doctor  —  what  was  his  name?" 

"Smithers?" 

"  Smithers  it  was  —  was  quite  wrong  in  trying  to 
fetch  him  round  too  soon,  according  to  all  accounts. 
The  things  he  did.  Even  now  it  makes  me  feel  all  — 
ugh!  Mustard,  snuff,  pricking.  And  one  of  those 
beastly  little  things,  not  dynamos  — " 

"  Induction  coils." 

"  Yes.  You  could  see  his  muscles  throb  and  jump, 
and  he  twisted  about.  There  was  just  two  flaring 
yellow  candles,  and  all  the  shadows  were  shivering, 
and  the  little  doctor  nervous  and  putting  on  side,  and 
liim  —  stark  and  squirming  in  the  most  unnatural 
ways.     Well,  it  made  me  dream," 

Pause. 

"It's  a  strange  state,"  said  Warming. 

"  It's  a  sort  of  complete  absence,"  said  Isbister. 
"  Here's  the  body,  empty.  Not  dead  a  bit,  and  yet 
not  alive.  It's  like  a  seat  vacant  and  marked  '  en- 
gaged.' No  feeling,  no  digestion,  no  beating  of  the 
heart  —  not  a  flutter.  That  doesn't  make  me  feel  as 
if  there  was  a  man  present.  In  a  sense  it's  more  dead 
than  death,  for  these  doctors  tell  me  that  even  the  hair 
has  stopped  growing.  Now  with  the  proper  dead,  the 
hair  will  go  on  growing  — " 

"  I  know,"  said  Warming,  with  a  flash  of  pain  in 
his  expression. 

15 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Thfiy  peered  through  the  glass  again.  Graham  was 
indeed  in  a  strange  state,  in  the  flaccid  phase  of  a 
trance,  but  a  trance  unprecedented  in  medical  his- 
tory. Trances  had  lasted  for  as  much  as  a  year  before 
—  but  at  the  end  of  that  time  it  had  ever  been  a 
waking  or  a  death;  sometimes  first  one  and  then  the 
other.  Isbister  noted  the  marks  the  physicians  had 
made  in  injecting  nourishment,  for  that  device  had 
been  resorted  to  to  postpone  collapse;  he  pointed  them 
out  to  Warming,  who  had  been  trying  not  to  see  them. 

"  And  while  he  has  been  lying  here,"  said  Isbister, 
with  the  zest  of  a  life  freely  spent,  "  I  have  changed  my 
plans  in  life;  married,  raised  a  family,  my  eldest  lad  — 
I  hadn't  begun  to  think  of  sons  then  —  is  an  Ameri- 
can citizen,  and  looking  forv\'ard  to  leaving  Harvard. 
There's  a  touch  of  grey  in  my  hair.  And  this  man, 
not  a  day  older  nor  wiser  (practically)  than  I  was  in 
my  downy  days.     It's  curious  to  think  of." 

Warming  turned.  "  And  I  have  grown  old  too.  I 
played  cricket  with  him  when  I  was  still  only  a  lad. 
And  he  looks  a  young  man  still.  Yellow  perhaps. 
But  that  is  a  young  man  nevertheless." 

"  And  there's  been  the  War,"  said  Isbister. 

"  From  beginning  to  end." 

"And  these  Martians." 

"  I've  understood,"  said  Isbister  after  a  pause,  "  that 
he  had  some  moderate  property  of  his  own?" 

'■  That  is  so,"  said  Warming.  He  coughed  primly. 
"  As  it  happens  —  I  have  charge  of  it."  I 

"Ah!"     Isbister    thought,    hesitated    and    spoke:' 
"  No  doubt  —  his  keep  here  is  not  expensive  —  no 
doubt  it  will  have  improved  —  accumulated?" 

i6 


THE  TRANCE 

"  It  has.  He  will  wake  up  very  much  better  off  — 
if  he  wakes  —  than  when  he  slept." 

"  As  a  business  man,"  said  Isbister,  "  that  thought 
has  naturally  been  in  my  mind.  I  have,  indeed,  some- 
times thought  that,  speaking  commercially,  of  course, 
this  sleep  may  be  a  very  good  thing  for  him.  That 
he  knows  what  he  is  about,  so  to  speak,  in  being  insen- 
sible so  long.     If  he  had  lived  straight  on  — " 

"  I  doubt  if  he  would  have  premeditated  as  much," 
sa?d  Warming.  "  He  was  not  a  far-sighted  man.  In 
fact  — " 

"Yes?" 

"  We  differed  on  that  point.  I  stood  to  him  some- 
what in  the  relation  of  a  guardian.  You  have  prob- 
ably seen  enough  of  affairs  to  recognise  that  occasion- 
ally a  certain  friction  — .  But  even  if  that  was  the 
case,  there  is  a  doubt  whether  he  will  ever  wake.  This 
sleep  exhausts  slowly,  but  it  exhausts.  Apparently 
he  is  sliding  slowly,  very  slowly  and  tediously,  down 
a  long  slope,  if  you  can  understand  me?  " 

"  It  will  be  a  pity  to  lose  his  surprise.  There's  been 
a  lot  of  change  these  twenty  years.  It's  Rip  Van 
Winkle  come  real." 

"  It's  Bellamy,"  said  Warming.  "  There  has  been 
a  lot  of  change  certainly.  And,  among  other  changes, 
I  have  changed.     I  am  an  old  man." 

Isbister  hesitated,  and  then  feigned  a  belated  sur- 
prise.    "  I  shouldn't  have  thought  it." 

"  I  was  forty-three  when  his  bankers  —  you  remem- 
ber you  wired  to  his  bankers  —  sent  on  to  me." 

"  I  got  their  address  from  the  cheque  book  in  his 
pocket,"  said  Isbister, 

17  B 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  Well,  the  addition  is  not  difficult,"  said  Warming. 

iThere  was  another  pause,  and  then  Isbister  gave 
way  to  an  unavoidable  curiosity.  "  He  may  go  on 
for  years  yet,"  he  said,  and  had  a  moment  of  hesita- 
tion. "  We  have  to  consider  that.  His  affairs,  you 
know,  may  fall  some  day  into  the  hands  of  —  someone 
else,  you  know." 

"  That,  if  you  will  believe  me,  Mr.  Isbister,  is  one 
of  the  problems  most  constantly  before  my  mind.  We 
happen  to  be  —  as  a  matter  of  fact,  there  are  no  very 
trustworthy  connexions  of  ours.  It  is  a  grotesque 
and  unprecedented  position." 

"  It  is,"  said  Isbister.  "  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it's  a 
case  for  a  public  trustee,  if  only  we  had  such  a 
functionary." 

"  It  seems  to  me  it's  a  case  for  some  public  body, 
some  practically  undying  guardian.  If  he  really  is 
going  on  living  —  as  the  doctors,  some  of  them,  think. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  have  gone  to  one  or  two  public 
men  about  it.     But,  so  far,  nothing  has  been  done." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  a  bad  idea  to  hand  him  over  to 
some  public  body  —  the  British  Museum  Trustees,  or 
the  Royal  College  of  Physicians.  Sounds  a  bit  odd, 
of  course,  but  the  whole  situation  is  odd." 

"  The  difficulty  is  to  induce  them  to  take  him." 

"  Red  tape,  I  suppose?  " 

"  Partly." 

Pause.  "  It's  a  curious  business,  certainly,"  said 
Isbister.  "  And  compound  interest  has  a  way  of 
mounting  up." 

"  It  has,"  said  Warming.  "  And  now  the  gold  sup- 
i8 


THE  TRANCE 

plies  are  running  short  there  is  a  tendency  towards 
.     .     .     appreciation." 

"  I've  felt  that,"  said  Isbister  with  a  grimace.  "  But 
it  makes  it  better  for  him." 

"  If  he  wakes." 

"  If  he  wakes,"  echoed  Isbister.  "  Do  you  notice 
the  pinched-in  look  of  his  nose,  and  the  way  in  which 
his  eyelids  sink?  " 

Warming  looked  and  thought  for  a  space.  "  I  doubt 
if  he  will  wake,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  I  never  properly  understood,"  said  Isbister,  "  what 
it  was  brought  this  on.  He  told  me  something  about 
overstudy.     I've  often  been  curious." 

"  He  was  a  man  of  considerable  gifts,  but  spas- 
modic, emotional.  He  had  grave  domestic  troubles, 
divorced  his  wife,  in  fact,  and  it  was  as  a  relief  from 
that,  I  think,  that  he  took  up  politics  of  the  rabid  sort. 
He  was  a  fanatical  Radical  —  a  Socialist  —  or  typical 
Liberal,  as  they  used  to  call  themselves,  of  the  advanced 
school.  Energetic  —  flighty  —  undisciplined.  Over- 
work upon  a  controversy  did  this  for  him.  I  remember 
the  pamphlet  he  wrote  —  a  curious  production.  Wild, 
whirling  stufif.  There  were  one  or  two  prophecies. 
Some  of  them  are  already  exploded,  some  of  them  are 
established  facts.  But  for  the  most  part  to  read  such 
a  thesis  is  to  realise  how  full  the  world  is  of  unantici- 
pated things.  He  will  have  much  to  learn,  much  to 
unlearn,  when  he  wakes.     If  ever  a  waking  comes." 

"I'd  give  anything  to  be  there,"  said  Isbister,  "  just 
to  hear  what  he  would  say  to  it  all." 

"  So  would  I,"  said  Warming.  "  Aye !  so  would 
19 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

I,"  with  an  old  man's  sudden  turn  to  self  pity.     "  But 
I  shall  never  see  him  wake." 

He  stood  looking-  thoughtfully  at  the  waxen  figure. 
"  He  will  never  wake,"  he  said  at  last.  He  sighed. 
"  He  will  never  wake  again." 


20 


CHAPTER  III 
THE    AWAKENING 

But  Warming  was  wrong  in  that.  An  awakening 
came. 

What  a  wonderfully  complex  thing!  this  simple 
seeming  unity — the  self!  Who  can  trace  its  rein- 
tegration as  morning  after  morning  we  awaken,  the 
flux  and  confluence  of  its  countless  factors  interweav- 
ing, rebuilding,  the  dim  first  stirrings  of  the  soul,  the 
growth  and  synthesis  of  the  unconscious  to  the  sub- 
conscious, the  sub-conscious  to  dawning  conscious- 
ness, until  at  last  we  recognise  ourselves  again.  And 
as  it  happens  to  most  of  us  after  the  night's  sleep,  so 
it  was  with  Graham  at  the  end  of  his  vast  slumber. 
A  dim  cloud  of  sensation  taking  shape,  a  cloudy  drear- 
iness, and  he  found  himself  vaguely  somewhere, 
recumbent,  faint,  but  alive. 

The  pilgrimage  towards  a  personal  being  seemed  to 
traverse  vast  gulfs,  to  occupy  epochs.  Gigantic 
dreams  that  were  terrible  realities  at  the  time,  left 
vague  perplexing  memories,  strange  creatures,  strange 
scenery,  as  if  from  another  planet.  There  was  a  dis- 
tinct impression,  too,  of  a  momentous  conversation,  of 
a  name— ^he  could  not  tell  what  name  —  that  was 
subsequently  to  recur,  of  some  queer  long-forgotten 
sensation  of  vein  and  muscle,  of  a  feeling  of  vast  hope- 
less effort,  the  effort  of  a  man  near  drowning  in  dark- 

21 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

ness.     Then  came  a  panorama  of  dazzling  unstable 
confluent  scenes, 

Graham  became  aware  his  eyes  were  open  and  re- 
garding some  unfamiliar  thing. 

It  was  something  white,  the  edge  of  something,  a 
frame  of  wood.  He  moved  his  head  slightly,  follow- 
ing the  contour  of  this  shape.  It  went  up  beyond  the 
top  of  his  eyes.  He  tried  to  think  where  he  might  be. 
Did  it  matter,  seeing  he  was  so  wretched?  The  colour 
of  his  thoughts  was  a  dark  depression.  He  felt  the 
featureless  misery  of  one  who  wakes  towards  the  hour 
of  dawn.  He  had  an  uncertain  sense  of  whispers  and 
footsteps  hastily  receding. 

The  movement  of  his  head  involved  a  perception  of 
extreme  physical  weakness.  He  supposed  he  was  in 
bed  in  the  hotel  at  the  place  in  the  valley  —  but  he 
could  not  recall  that  white  edge.  He  must  have  slept. 
He  remembered  now  that  he  had  wanted  to  sleep.  He 
recalled  the  cliff  and  waterfall  again,  and  then  recol- 
lected something  about  talking  to  a  passer-by.     .     .     . 

How  long  had  he  slept?  What  was  that  sound  of 
pattering  feet?  And  that  rise  and  fall,  like  the  mur- 
mur of  breakers  on  pebbles?  He  put  out  a  languid 
hand  to  reach  his  watch  from  the  chair  whereon  it 
was  his  habit  to  place  it,  and  touched  some  smooth 
hard  surface  like  glass.  This  was  so  unexpected  that 
it  startled  him  extremely.  Quite  suddenly  he  rolled 
over,  stared  for  a  moment,  and  struggled  into  a  sitting 
position.  The  effort  was  unexpectedly  difficult,  and 
it  left  him  giddy  and  weak  —  and  amazed. 

He  rubbed  his  eyes.  The  riddle  of  his  surroundings 
was  confusing  but  his  mind  was  quite  clear  —  evi- 

22 


THE  AWAKENING 

dently  his  sleep  had  benefitted  him.  He  was  not  in  a 
bed  at  all  as  he  understood  the  word,  but  lying  naked 
on  a  very  soft  and  yielding  mattress,  in  a  trough  of 
dark  glass.  The  mattress  was  partly  transparent,  a 
fact  he  observed  with  a  strange  sense  of  insecurity,  and 
below  it  was  a  mirror  reflecting  him  greyly.  About 
his  arm  —  and  he  saw  with  a  shock  that  his  skin  was 
strangely  dry  and  yellow  —  was  bound  a  curious  appa- 
ratus of  rubber,  bound  so  cunningly  that  it  seemed 
to  pass  into  his  skin  above  and  below.  And  this 
strange  bed  was  placed  in  a  case  of  greenish  coloured 
glass  (as  it  seemed  to  him),  a  bar  in  the  white  frame- 
work of  which  had  first  arrested  his  attention.  In 
the  corner  of  the  case  was  a  stand  of  glittering  and 
delicately  made  apparatus,  for  the  most  part  quite 
strange  appliances,  though  a  maximum  and  minimum 
thermometer  was  recognisable. 

The  slightly  greenish  tint  of  the  glass-like  substance 
which  surrounded  him  on  every  hand  obscured  what 
lay  behind,  but  he  perceived  it  was  a  vast  apartment 
of  splendid  appearance,  and  with  a  very  large  and 
simple  white  archway  facing  him.  Close  to  the  walls 
of  the  cage  were  articles  of  furniture,  a  table  covered 
with  a  silvery  cloth,  silvery  like  the  side  of  a  fish,  a 
couple  of  graceful  chairs,  and  on  the  table  a  number 
of  dishes  with  substances  piled  on  them,  a  bottle  and 
two  glasses.    He  realised  that  he  was  intensely  hungry. 

He  could  see  no  human  being,  and  after  a  period 
of  hesitation  scrambled  off  the  translucent  mattress 
and  tried  to  stand  on  the  clean  white  floor  of  his  little 
apartment.  He  had  miscalculated  his  strength,  how- 
ever, and  staggered  and  put  his  hand  against  the  glass- 

23 


avhen  the  sleeper  wakes 

like  pane  before  him  to  steady  himself.  For  a  moment 
it  resisted  his  hand,  bending  outward  like  a  distended 
bladder,  then  it  broke  with  a  slight  report  and  van- 
ished —  a  pricked  bubble.  He  reeled  out  into  the 
general  space  of  the  hall,  greatly  astonished.  He 
caught  at  the  table  to  save  himself,  knocking  one  of 
the  glasses  to  the  floor  —  it  rang  but  did  not  break  — 
and  sat  down  in  one  of  the  armchairs. 

When  he  had  a  little  recovered  he  filled  the  remain- 
ing glass  from  the  bottle  and  drank  —  a  colourless 
liquid  it  was,  but  not  water,  with  a  pleasing  faint 
aroma  and  taste  and  a  quality  of  immediate  support 
and  stimulus.  Pie  put  down  the  vessel  and  looked 
about  him. 

The  apartment  lost  none  of  its  size  and  magnificence 
now  that  the  greenish  transparency  that  had  inter- 
vened was  removed.  The  archway  he  saw  led  to  a 
flight  of  steps,  going  downward  without  the  interme- 
diation of  a  door,  to  a  spacious  transverse  passage. 
This  passage  ran  between  polished  pillars  of  some 
white-veined  substance  of  deep  ultramarine,  and  along 
it  came  the  sound  of  human  movements  and  voices 
and  a  deep  undeviating  droning  note.  He  sat,  now 
fully  awake,  listening  alertly,  forgetting  the  viands  in 
his  attention. 

Then  with  a  shock  he  remembered  that  he  was 
naked,  and  casting  about  him  for  covering,  saw  a  long 
black  robe  thrown  on  one  of  the  chairs  beside  him. 
This  he  wrapped  about  him  and  sat  down  again, 
trembling. 

His  mind  was  still  a  surging  perplexity.  Clearly 
he  had  slept,  and  had  been  removed  in  his  sleep.     But 

24 


THE  AWAKENING 

where?  And  who  were  those  people,  the  distant 
crowd  beyond  the  deep  blue  pillars?  Boscastle?  He 
poured  out  and  partially  drank  another  glass  of  the 
colourless  fluid. 

What  was  this  place?  —  this  place  that  to  his  senses 
seemed  subtly  quivering  like  a  thing  alive?  He  looked 
about  him  at  the  clean  and  beautiful  form  of  the  apart- 
ment, unstained  by  ornament,  and  saw  that  the  roof 
was  broken  in  one  place  by  a  circular  shaft  full  of 
light,  and,  as  he  looked,  a  steady,  sweeping  shadow 
blotted  it  out  and  passed,  and  came  again  and  passed. 
"  Beat,  beat,"  that  sweeping  shadow  had  a  note  of  its 
own  in  the  subdued  tumult  that  filled  the  air. 

He  would  have  called  out,  but  only  a  little  sound 
came  into  his  throat.  Then  he  stood  up,  and,  with 
the  uncertain  steps  of  a  drunkard,  made  his  way 
towards  the  archway.  He  staggered  down  the  steps, 
tripped  on  the  corner  of  the  black  cloak  he  had 
wrapped  about  himself,  and  saved  himself  by  catching 
at  one  of  the  blue  pillars. 

The  passage  ran  down  a  cool  vista  of  blue  and  pur- 
ple, and  ended  remotely  in  a  railed  space  like  a  bal- 
cony, brightly  lit  and  projecting  into  a  space  of  haze, 
a  space  lil:e  the  interior  of  some  gigantic  building. 
Beyond  and  remote  were  vast  and  vague  architectural 
forms.  The  tumult  of  voices  rose  now  loud  and  clear, 
and  on  the  balcony  and  with  their  backs  to  him,  ges- 
ticulating and  apparently  in  animated  conversation, 
were  three  figures,  richly  dressed  in  loose  and  easy 
garments  of  bright  soft  colourings.  The  noise  of  a 
great  multitude  of  people  poured  up  over  the  balcony, 
and  once  it  seemed  the  top  of  a  banner  passed,  and 

25 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

once  some  brightly  coloured  object,  a  pale  blue  cap 
or  garment  thrown  up  into  the  air  perhaps,  flashed 
athwart  the  space  and  fell.  The  shouts  sounded  hke 
Enghsh,  there  was  a  reiteration  of  "Wake!"  He 
heard  some  indistinct  shrill  cry,  and  abruptly  these 
three  men  began  laughing. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha!  "  laughed  one  —  a  red-haired  man  in 
a  short  purple  robe.  "  When  the  Sleeper  wakes  — 
When!" 

He  turned  his  eyes  full  of  merriment  along  the  pas- 
sage. His  face  changed,  the  whole  man  changed, 
became  rigid.  The  other  two  turned  swiftly  at  his 
exclamation  and  stood  motionless.  Their  faces 
assumed  an  expression  of  consternation,  an  expression 
that  deepened  into  awe. 

Suddenly  Graham's  knees  bent  beneath  him,  his  arm 
against  the  pillar  collapsed  limply,  he  staggered  for- 
ward and  fell  upon  his  face. 


20 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  SOUND  OF  A  TUMULT 

Graham's  last  impression  before  he  fainted  was  of 
a  clamorous  ringing  of  bells.  He  learnt  afterwards  that 
he  was  insensible,  hanging  between  life  and  death,  for 
the  better  part  of  an  hour.  When  he  recovered  his 
senses,  he  was  back  on  his  translucent  couch,  and 
there  was  a  stirring  warmth  at  heart  and  throat.  The 
dark  apparatus,  he  perceived,  had  been  removed  from 
his  arm,  which  was  bandaged.  The  white  framework 
was  still  about  him,  but  the  greenish  transparent  sub- 
stance that  had  filled  it  was  altogether  gone.  A  man 
in  a  deep  violet  robe,  one  of  those  who  had  been  on 
the  balcony,  was  looking  keenly  into  his  face. 

Remote  but  insistent  was  a  clamour  of  bells  and 
confused  sounds,  that  suggested  to  his  mind  the  pic- 
ture of  a  great  number  of  people  shouting  together. 
Something  seemed  to  fall  across  this  tumult,  a 
door  suddenly  closed. 

Graham  moved  his  head.  "  What  does  this  all 
mean?"  he  said  slowly.     "Where  am  I  ?'' 

He  saw  the  red-haired  man  who  had  been  first  to 
discover  him.  A  voice  seemed  to  be  asking  what  he 
had  said,  and  was  abruptly  stilled. 

The  man  in  violet  answered  in  a  soft  voice,  speaking 
English  with  a  slightly  foreign  accent,  or  so  at  least 
it  seemed  to  the  Sleeper's  ears,  "  You  are  quite  safe. 

27 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES  | 

You  were  brought  hither  from  where  you  fell  asleep. 
It  is  quite  safe.  You  have  been  here  some  time  — 
sleeping.     In  a  trance." 

He  said  something  further  that  Graham  could  not 
hear,  and  a  little  phial  was  handed  across  to  him. 
Graham  felt  a  cooling  spray,  a  fragrant  mist  played 
over  his  forehead  for  a  moment,  and  his  sense  of 
refreshment  increased.  He  closed  his  eyes  in  satis- 
faction. 

"  Better? "  asked  the  man  in  violet,  as  Graham's 
eyes  reopened.  He  was  a  pleasant-faced  man  of 
thirty,  perhaps,  with  a  pointed  flaxen  beard,  and  a 
clasp  of  gold  at  the  neck  of  his  violet  robe. 

"  Yes,"  said  Graham, 

"  You  have  been  asleep  some  time.  In  a  cataleptic 
trance.  You  have  heard?  Catalepsy?  It  may  seem 
strange  to  you  at  first,  but  I  can  assure  you  everything 
is  well." 

Graham  did  not  answer,  but  these  words  served 
their  reassuring  purpose.  His  eyes  went  from  face 
to  face  of  the  three  people  about  him.  They  were 
regarding  him  strangely.  He  knew  he  ought  to  be 
somewhere  in  Cornwall,  but  he  could  not  square  these 
things  with  that  impression. 

A  matter  that  had  been  in  his  mind  during  his  last 
waking  moments  at  Boscastle  recurred,  a  thing  re- 
solved upon  and  somehow  neglected.  He  cleared  his 
throat. 

"Have  you  wired  my  cousin?"  he  asked.  "  E. 
Warming,  27,  Chancery  Lane?" 

They  were  all  assiduous  to  hear.  But  he  had  to 
repeat  it.    '*  What  an  odd  blnrr  in  his  accent!  "  whis- 

28 


THE  SOUND  OF  A  TUMULT 

pered  the  red-haired  man.  "  Wire,  sir? "  said  the 
young  man  with  the  flaxen  beard,  evidently  puzzled. 

"  He  means  send  an  electric  telegram,"  volunteered 
the  third,  a  pleasant-facsd  youth  of  nineteen  or  twenty. 
The  flaxen-bearded  man  gave  a  cry  of  comprehension. 
"How  stupid  of  me!  You  may  be  sure  everything 
shall  be  done,  sir,"  he  said  to  Graham.  "  I  am  afraid 
it  would  be  difficult  to  —  wire  to  your  cousin.  He  is 
not  in  London  now.  But  don't  trouble  about  arrange- 
ments yet;  you  have  been  asleep  a  very  long  time  and 
the  important  thing  is  to  get  over  that,  sir."  (Graham 
concluded  the  word  was  sir,  but  this  man  pronounced 
it  "  Sire.") 

"  Oh!  "  said  Graham,  and  became  quiet. 

It  was  all  ver)'  puzzling,  but  apparently  these  people 
in  unfamiliar  dress  knew  what  they  were  about.  Yet 
they  were  odd  and  the  room  was  odd.  It  seemed  he 
was  in  some  newly  established  place.  He  had  a  sud- 
den flash  of  suspicion.  Surely  this  wasn't  some  hall 
of  public  exhibition !  If  it  was  he  would  give  Warm- 
ing a  piece  of  his  mind.  But  it  scarcely  had  that 
character.  And  in  a  place  of  public  exhibition  he 
would  not  have  discovered  himself  naked. 

Then  suddenly,  quite  abruptly,  he  realised  what  had 
happened.  There  was  no  perceptible  interval  of  sus- 
picion, no  dawn  to  his  knowledge.  Abruptly  he 
knew  that  his  trance  had  lasted  for  a  vast  interval ;  as 
if  by  some  processes  of  thought  reading  he  interpreted 
the  awe  in  the  faces  that  peered  into  his.  He  looked 
at  them  strangely,  full  of  intense  emotion.  It  seemed 
they  read  his  eyes.  He  framed  his  lips  to  speak  and 
could  not.     A  queer  impulse  to  hide  his  knowledge 

29 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES  I 

came  into  his  mind  almost  at  the  moment  of  his  dis- 
covery. He  looked  at  his  bare  feet,  regarding  them 
silently.  His  impulse  to  speak  passed.  He  was 
trembling  exceedingly. 

They  gave  him  some  pink  fluid  with  a  greenish 
fluorescence  and  a  meaty  taste,  and  the  assurance  of 
returning  strength  grew. 

"  That  —  that  makes  me  feel  better,"  he  said 
hoarsely,  and  there  were  murmurs  of  respectful 
approval.  He  knew  now  quite  clearly.  He  made  to 
speak  again,  and  again  he  could  not. 

He  pressed  his  throat  and  tried  a  third  time. 
"  How  long?  "  he  asked  in  a  level  voice.  "  How  long 
have  I  been  asleep?  " 

"  Some  considerable  time,"  said  the  flaxen-bearded 
man,  glancing  quickly  at  the  others. 

"  How  long?  "  I 

"  A  very  long  time." 

"  Yes  —  yes,"  said  Graham,  suddenly  testy.  "  But 
I  want —  Is  it  —  it  is  —  some  years?  Many  years? 
There  was  something  —  I  forget  what.  I  feel  — 
confused.  But  you  — "  He  sobbed.  "  You  need 
not  fence  with  me.     How  long  — ?  " 

He  stopped,  breathing  irregularly.  He  squeezed 
his  eyes  with  his  knuckles  and  sat  waiting  for  an 
answer.  i 

They  spoke  in  undertones.  1 

"  Five  or  six?  "  he  asked  faintly.     "  More?  "  * 

"  Very  much  more  than  that." 

"More!" 

"  More." 

He  looked  at  them  and  it  seemed  as  though  imps 
3° 


THE  SOUND  OF  A  TUMULT 

were  twitching  the  muscles  of  his  face.  He  looked 
his  question, 

"  Many  years,"  said  the  man  with  the  red  beard. 

Graham  struggled  into  a  sitting  position.  He 
wiped  a  rheumy  tear  from  his  face  with  a  lean  hand. 
"  Many  years!  "  he  repeated.  He  shut  his  eyes  tight, 
opened  them,  and  sat  looking  about  him  from  one 
unfamiliar  thing  to  another. 

"How  many  years?"  he  asked. 

"  You  must  be  prepared  to  be  surprised." 

"Well?" 

"  More  than  a  gross  of  years." 

He  was  irritated  at  the  strange  word.  "  More  than 
a  whatr  " 

Two  of  them  spoke  together.  Some  quick  remarks 
that  were  made  about  "  decimal  "  he  did  not  catch. 

"  How  long  did  you  say?  "  asked  Graham.  "  How 
long?     Don't  look  like  that.     Tell  me." 

Among  the  remarks  in  an  undertone,  his  ear  caught 
six  words :     "  More  than  a  couple  of  centuries." 

"  What?  "  he  cried,  turning  on  the  youth  who  he 
thought  had  spoken.  "  Who  says  — ?  What  was 
that?    A  couple  of  centuries!  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  man  with  the  red  beard.  "  Two 
hundred  years." 

Graham  repeated  the  words.  He  had  been  prepared 
to  hear  of  a  vast  repose,  and  yet  these  concrete  cen- 
turies defeated  him. 

"  Two  hundred  years,"  he  said  again,  with  the  figure 
of  a  great  gulf  opening  very  slowly  in  his  mind;  and 
then,  "Oh,  but— f" 

They  said  nothing. 

31 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  You  —  did  you  say  — ?  " 

"Two  hundred  years.  Two  centuries  of  years," 
said  the  man  with  the  red  beard. 

There  was  a  pause.  Graham  looked  at  their  faces 
and  saw  that  what  he  had  heard  was  indeed  true. 

"  But  it  can't  be,"  he  said  querulously.  "  I  am 
dreaming.  Trances.  Trances  don't  last.  That  is  not 
right  —  this  is  a  joke  you  have  played  upon  me!  Tell 
me  —  some  days  ago,  perhaps,  I  was  walking  along 
the  coast  of  Cornwall  — ?  " 

His  voice  failed  him. 

The  man  with  the  flaxen  beard  hesitated.  "  I'm 
not  very  strong  in  history,  sir,"  he  said  weakly,  and 
glanced  at  the  others. 

"  That  was  it,  sir,"  said  the  youngster.  "  Boscastle, 
in  the  old  Duchy  of  Cornwall  —  it's  in  the  southwest 
country  beyond  the  dairy  meadows.  There  is  a  house 
there  still.     I  have  been  there." 

"  Boscastle! "  Graham  turned  his  eyes  to  the 
youngster.  "  That  was  it  —  Boscastle.  Little  Bos- 
castle. I  fell  asleep  —  somewhere  there.  I  don't 
exactly  remember.     I  don't  exactly  remember." 

He  pressed  his  brows  and  whispered,  "  More  than 
tzvo  hundred  years! " 

He  began  to  speak  quickly  with  a  twitching  face, 
but  his  heart  was  cold  within  him.  "  But  if  it  is  two 
hundred  years,  every  soul  I  know,  every  human  being 
that  ever  I  saw  or  spoke  to  before  I  went  to  sleep, 
must  be  dead." 

They  did  not  answer  him. 

"  The  Queen  and  the  Royal  Family,  her  Ministers, 
32 


THE  SOUND  OF  A  TUMULT 

Church  and  State.  High  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  one 
with  another — " 

''Is  there  England  still?" 

"  That's  a  comfort!     Is  there  London?  " 

"  This  is  London,  eh?  And  you  are  my  assistant- 
custodian;  assistant-custodian.  And  these — ?  Eh? 
Assistant-custodians  too!  " 

He  sat  with  a  gaunt  stare  on  his  face.  "  But  why 
am  I  here?     No!     Don't  talk.     Be  quiet.     Let  me — " 

He  sat  silent,  rubbed  his  eyes,  and,  uncovering  them, 
found  another  little  glass  of  pinkish  fluid  held  towards 
him.  He  took  the  dose.  It  was  almost  immediately 
sustaining.  Directly  he  had  taken  it  he  began  to  weep 
naturally  and  refreshingly. 

Presently  he  looked  at  their  faces,  suddenly  laughed 
through  his  tears,  a  little  foolishly.  *'  But  —  two  — 
hun  —  dred  —  years!  "  he  said.  He  grimaced  hyster- 
ically and  covered  up  his  face  again. 

After  a  space  he  grew  calm.  He  sat  up,  his  hands 
hanging  over  his  knees  in  almost  precisely  the  same 
attitude  in  which  Isbister  had  found  him  on  the  cliff 
at  Pentargen.  His  attention  was  attracted  by  a  thick 
domineering  voice,  the  footsteps  of  an  advancing  per- 
sonage. "  What  are  you  doing?  Why  was  I  not 
warned?  Surely  you  could  tell?  Someone  will  suffer 
for  this.  The  man  must  be  kept  quiet.  Are  the  door- 
ways closed?  All  the  doorways?  He  must  be  kept 
perfectly  quiet.  He  must  not  be  told.  Has  he  been 
told  anything?  " 

The  man  with  the  fair  beard  made  some  inaudible 
remark,  and  Graham  looking  over  his  shoulder  saw 
approaching  a  very  short,  fat,  and  thickset  beardless 

23  c 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

man,  with  aquiline  nose  and  heavy  neck  and  chin. 
Very  thick  black  and  sHghtly  sloping  eyebrows  that 
almost  met  over  his  nose  and  overhung  deep  grey 
eyes,  gave  his  face  an  oddly  formidable  expression. 
He  scowled  momentarily  at  Graham  and  then  his 
regard  returned  to  the  man  with  the  flaxen  beard. 
"  These  others,"  he  said  in  a  voice  of  extreme  irrita- 
tion.    "  You  had  better  go." 

"  Go?  "  said  the  red-bearded  man. 

"  Certainly  —  go  now.  But  see  the  doorways  are 
closed  as  you  go." 

The  two  men  addressed  turned  obediently,  after  one 
reluctant  glance  at  Graham,  and  instead  of  going 
through  the  archway  as  he  expected,  walked  straight 
to  the  dead  wall  of  the  apartment  opposite  the  arch- 
way. And  then  came  a  strange  thing;  a  long  strip 
of  this  apparently  solid  wall  rolled  up  with  a  snap, 
hung  over  the  two  retreating  men  and  fell  again,  and 
immediately  Graham  was  alone  with  the  new  comer 
and  the  purple-robed  man  with  the  flaxen  beard. 

For  a  space  the  thickset  man  took  not  the  slightest 
notice  of  Graham,  but  proceeded  to  interrogate  the 
other  —  obviously  his  subordinate  —  upon  the  treat- 
ment of  their  charge.  He  spoke  clearly,  but  in, 
phrases  only  partially  intelligible  to  Graham.  The 
awakening  seemed  not  only  a  matter  of  surprise  but 
of  consternation  and  annoyance  to  him.  He  was  evi- 
dently profoundly  excited. 

"  You  must  not  confuse  his  mind  by  telling  him 
things,"  he  repeated  again  and  again.  "  You  must  not 
confuse  his  mind." 

34 


THE  SOUND  OF  A  TUMULT 

His  questions  answered,  he  turned  quickly  and  eyed 
the  awakened  sleeper  with  an  ambiguous  expression. 

''  Feel  queer?  "  he  asked. 

"  Very." 

"The  world,  what  you  see  of  it,  seems  strange  to 
you?" 

"  I  suppose  I  have  to  live  in  it,  strange  as  it  seems." 

"  I  suppose  so,  now," 

"  In  the  first  place,  hadn't  I  better  have  some 
clothes?" 

"  They  — "  said  the  thickset  man  and  stopped,  and 
the  flaxen-bearded  man  met  his  eye  and  went  away. 
"  You  will  very  speedily  have  clothes,"  said  the  thick- 
set man. 

"  Is  it  true  indeed,  that  I  have  been  asleep  two 
hundred — ?"  asked  Graham. 

"They  have  told  you  that,  have  they?  Two  hun- 
dred and  three,  as  a  matter  of  fact." 

Graham  accepted  the  indisputable  now  with  raised 
eyebrows  and  depressed  mouth.  He  sat  silent  for  a 
moment,  and  then  asked  a  question,  "  Is  there  a  mill 
or  dynamo  near  here?"  He  did  not  wait  for  an 
answer.  "  Things  have  changed  tremendously,  I 
suppose?  "  he  said. 

"  What  is  that  shouting?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

"  Nothing,"  said  the  thickset  man  impatiently. 
"  It's  people.  You'll  understand  better  later  —  per- 
haps. As  you  say,  things  have  changed."  He  spoke 
shortly,  his  brows  were  knit,  and  he  glanced  about 
him  like  a  man  trying  to  decide  in  an  emergency. 
"  We  must  get  you  clothes  and  so  forth,  at  any  rate. 

35 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Better  wait  here  until  some  can  come.     No  one  will 
come  near  you.     You  want  shaving." 

Graham  rubbed  his  chin. 

The  man  with  the  flaxen  beard  came  back  towards 
them,  turned  suddenly,  listened  for  a  moment,  lifted 
his  eyebrows  at  the  older  man,  and  hurried  ofif  through 
the  archway  towards  the  balcony.  The  tumult  of 
shouting  grew  louder,  and  the  thickset  man  turned  and 
listened  also.  He  cursed  suddenly  under  his  breath, 
and  turned  his  eyes  upon  Graham  with  an  unfriendly 
expression.  It  was  a  surge  of  many  voices,  rising  and 
falling,  shouting  and  screaming,  and  once  came  a 
sound  like  blows  and  sharp  cries,  and  then  a  snap- 
ping like  the  crackling  of  dry  sticks.  Graham 
strained  his  ears  to  draw  some  single  thread  of  sound 
from  the  woven  tumult. 

Then  he  perceived,  repeated  again  and  again,  a  cer- 
tain formula.  For  a  time  he  doubted  his  ears.  But 
surely  these  were  the  words:  "  Show  us  the  Sleeper  I 
Show  us  the  Sleeper!" 

The  thickset  man  rushed  suddenly  to  the  archway. 

"  Wild!  "  he  cried,  "  How  do  they  know?  Do  they 
know?     Or  is  it  guessing?" 

There  was  perhaps  an  answer. 

"  I  can't  come,"  said  the  thickset  man;  "  I  have  him 
to  see  to.    But  shout  from  the  balcony." 

There  was  an  inaudible  reply. 

"Say  he  is  not  awake.  Anything!  I  leave  it  to 
you." 

He  came  hurrying  back  to  Graham.  "  You  must 
have  clothes  at  once,"  he  said.  "  You  cannot  stop 
here  —  and  it  will  be  impossible  to  — " 

36 


THE  SOUND  OF  A  TUMULT 

'  He  rushed  away,  Graham  shouting  unanswered 
questions  after  him.     In  a  moment  he  was  back. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  what  is  happening.  It  is  too  com- 
plex to  explain.  In  a  moment  you  shall  have  your 
clothes  made.  Yes  —  in  a  moment.  And  then  I  can 
take  you  away  from  here.  You  will  find  out  our 
troubles  soon  enough." 

"But  those  voices.     They  were  shouting — ?" 

"  Something  about  the  Sleeper  —  that's  you.  They 
have  some  twisted  idea.  I  don't  know  what  it  is.  I 
know  nothing." 

A  shrill  bell  jetted  acutely  across  the  indistinct  min- 
gling of  remote  noises,  and  this  brusque  person  sprang 
to  a  little  group  of  appliances  in  the  corner  of  the 
room.  He  listened  for  a  moment,  regarding  a  ball  of 
crystal,  nodded,  and  said  a  few  indistinct  words;  then 
he  walked  to  the  wall  through  which  the  two  men  had 
vanished.  It  rolled  up  again  like  a  curtain,  and  he 
stood  waiting. 

Graham  lifted  his  arm  and  was  astonished  to  find 
what  strength  the  restoratives  had  given  him.  He 
thrust  one  leg  over  the  side  of  the  couch  and  then  the 
other.  His  head  no  longer  swam.  He  could  scarcely 
credit  his  rapid  recovery.     He  sat  feeling  his  limbs. 

The  man  with  the  flaxen  beard  re-entered  from  the 
archway,  and  as  he  did  so  the  cage  of  a  lift  came 
sliding  down  in  front  of  the  thickset  man,  and  a  lean, 
grey-bearded  man,  carrying  a  roll,  and  wearing  a 
tightly-fitting  costume  of  dark  green,  appeared  therein. 

"  This  is  the  tailor,"  said  the  thickset  man  with  an 
introductory  gesture.  "  It  will  never  do  for  you  to 
wear  that  black.     I  cannot  understand  how  it  got  here. 

37 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

But  I  shall.  I  shall.  You  will  be  as  rapid  as  possi- 
ble? "  he  said  to  the  tailor. 

The  man  in  green  bowed,  and,  advancingf,  seated 
himself  by  Graham  on  the  bed.  His  manner  was 
calm,  but  his  eyes  were  full  of  curiosity.  "  You  will 
find  the  fashions  altered.  Sire,"  he  said.  He  glanced 
from  under  his  brows  at  the  thickset  man. 

He  opened  the  roller  with  a  quick  movement,  and  a 
confusion  of  brilliant  fabrics  poured  out  over  his  knees. 
"  You  lived.  Sire,  in  a  period  essentially  cylindrical  — 
the  Victorian.  With  a  tendency  to  the  hemisphere  in 
hats.  Circular  curves  always.  Now  — "  He  flicked 
out  a  little  appliance  the  size  and  appearance  of  a  key- 
less watch,  whirled  the  knob,  and  behold  —  a  little 
figure  in  white  appeared  kinetoscope  fashion  on  the 
dial,  walking  and  turning.  The  tailor  caught  up  a 
pattern  of  bluish  white  satin.  "  That  is  my  conception 
of  your  immediate  treatment,"  he  said. 

The  thickset  man  came  and  stood  by  the  shoulder 
of  Graham. 

"  We  have  very  little  time,"  he  said. 

"  Trust  me,"  said  the  tailor.  "  My  machine  follows. 
What  do  you  think  of  this?  " 

"  What  is  that?  "  asked  the  man  from  the  nineteenth 
century. 

"  In  your  days  they  showed  you  a  fashion-plate," 
said  the  tailor,  "  but  this  is  our  modem  development. 
See  here."  Tlie  little  figure  repeated  its  evolutions, 
but  in  a  different  costume.  "  Or  this,"  and  with  a 
click  another  small  figure  in  a  more  voluminous  type 
of  robe  marched  on  to  the  dial.     The  tailor  was  very 

38 


THE  SOUND  OF  A  TUMULT 

quick  in  his  movements,  and  glanced  twice  towards 
the  hft  as  he  did  these  things. 

It  rumbled  again,  and  a  crop-haired  anaemic  lad 
with  features  of  the  Chinese  type,  clad  in  coarse 
pale  blue  canvas,  appeared  together  with  a  com- 
plicated machine,  which  he  pushed  noiselessly  on 
little  castors  into  the  room.  Incontinently  the  little 
kinetoscope  was  dropped,  Graham  was  invited  to 
stand  in  front  of  the  machine  and  the  tailor 
muttered  some  instructions  to  the  crop-haired  lad, 
who  answered  in  guttural  tones  and  with  words 
Graham  did  not  recognise.  The  boy  then  went 
to  conduct  an  incomprehensible  monologue  in  the 
corner,  and  the  tailor  pulled  out  a  number  of  slotted 
arms  terminating  in  little  discs,  pulling  them  out  until 
the  discs  were  flat  against  the  body  of  Graham,  one 
at  each  shoulder  blade,  one  at  the  elbows,  one  at  the 
neck  and  so  forth,  so  that  at  last  there  were,  perhaps, 
two  score  of  them  upon  his  body  and  limbs.  At  the 
same  time,  some  other  person  entered  the  room  by  the 
lift,  behind  Graham.  The  tailor  set  moving  a  mechan- 
ism that  initiated  a  faint-sounding  rhythmic  movement 
of  parts  in  the  machine,  and  in  another  moment  he  was 
knocking  up  the  levers  and  Graham  was  released.  The 
tailor  replaced  his  cloak  of  black,  and  the  man  with 
the  flaxen  beard  proffered  him  a  little  glass  of  some 
refreshing  fluid.  Graham  saw  over  the  rim  of  the 
glass  a  pale-faced  young  man  regarding  him  with  a 
singular  fixity. 

The  thickset  man  had  been  pacing  the  room  fret- 
fully, and  now  turned  and  went  through  the  archway 
towards  the  balcony,  from  which  the  noise  of  a  distant 

39 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

crowd  still  came  in  gusts  and  cadences.  The  crop- 
headed  lad  handed  the  tailor  a  roll  of  the  bluish  satin 
and  the  two  began  fixing  this  in  the  mechanism  in  a 
manner  reminiscent  of  a  roll  of  paper  in  a  nineteenth 
century  printing  machine.  Then  they  ran  the  entire 
thing  on  its  easy,  noiseless  bearings  across  the  room 
to  a  remote  corner  where  a  twisted  cable  looped  rather 
gracefully  from  the  wall.  They  made  some  connexion 
and  the  machine  became  energetic  and  swift. 

"  What  is  that  doing? ''  asked  Graham,  pointing 
\vith  the  empty  glass  to  the  busy  figures  and  trying 
to  ignore  the  scrutiny  of  the  new  comer.  *'  Is  that  — 
some  sort  of  force  —  laid  on?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  man  with  the  flaxen  beard. 

"  Who  is  thatF  "  He  indicated  the  archway  behind 
him, 

Tlic  man  in  purple  stroked  his  little  beard,  hesitated, 
and  answered  in  an  undertone,  **  He  is  Howard,  your 
chief  guardian.  You  see.  Sire, —  it's  a  little  difficult 
to  explain.  The  Council  appoints  a  guardian  and 
assistants.  This  hall  has  under  certain  restrictions 
been  public.  In  order  that  people  might  satisfy  them- 
selves. We  have  barred  the  doorways  for  the  first 
time.  But  I  think  —  if  you  don't  mind,  I  will  leave 
him  to  explain." 

"Odd!"  said  Graham.  "Guardian?  Council?" 
Then  turning  his  back  on  the  new  comer,  he  asked 
in  an  undertone,  "  Why  is  this  man  glaring  at  me? 
Is  he  a  mesmerist?  " 

"Mesmerist!     He  is  a  capillotomist." 

"  Capillotomist!  " 

40  >      ,     . 


THE  SOUND  OF  A  TUMULT 

"  Yes  —  one  of  the  chief.  His  yearly  fee  is  sixdoz 
ions. 

It  sounded  sheer  nonsense,  Graham  snatched  at 
the  last  phrase  with  an  unsteady  mind.  "  Sixdoz 
Hons?  "  he  said. 

"  Didn't  you  have  hons?  I  suppose  not.  You  had 
the  old  pounds?     They  are  our  monetary  units." 

"  But  what  was  that  you  said  —  sixdoz?  " 

"  Yes.  Six  dozen,  Sire.  Of  course  things,  even 
these  little  things,  have  altered.  You  lived  in  the  days 
of  the  decimal  system,  the  Arab  system  —  tens,  and 
little  hundreds  and  thousands.  We  have  eleven 
numerals  now.  We  have  single  figures  for  both  ten 
and  eleven,  two  figures  for  a  dozen,  and  a  dozen  dozen 
makes  a  gross,  a  great  hundred,  you  know,  a  dozen 
gross  a  dozand,  and  a  dozand  dozand  a  myriad.  Very 
simple?  " 

''  I  suppose  so,"  said  Graham.  "  But  about  this 
cap  —  what  was  it?  " 

The  man  with  the  flaxen  beard  glanced  over  his 
shoulder. 

"  Here  are  your  clothes!  "  he  said.  Graham  turned 
round  sharply  and  saw  the  tailor  standing  at  his  elbow 
smiling,  and  holding  some  palpably  new  garments  over 
his  arm.  The  crop-headed  boy,  by  means  of  one 
finger,  was  impelling  the  complicated  machine  towards 
the  lift  by  which  he  had  arrived.  Graham  stared  at 
the  completed  suit.     "  You  don't  mean  to  say — !  " 

"  Just  made,"  said  the  tailor.  He  dropped  the  gar- 
ments at  the  feet  of  Graham,  walked  to  the  bed  on 
which  Graham  had  so  recently  been  lying,  flung  out 
the  translucent  mattress,  and  turned  up  the  looking- 

41 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

glass.  As  he  did  so  a  furious  bell  summoned  the 
thickset  man  to  the  corner.  The  man  with  the  flaxen 
beard  rushed  across  to  him  and  then  hurried  out  by 
the  archway. 

The  tailor  was  assisting  Graham  into  a  dark  purple 
combination  garment,  stockings,  vest,  and  pants  in 
one,  as  the  thickset  man  came  back  from  the  corner 
to  meet  the  man  with  the  flaxen  beard  returning  from 
the  balcony.  They  began  speaking  quickly  in  an 
undertone,  their  bearing  had  an  unmistakable  quality 
of  anxiety.  Over  the  purple  under-garment  came  a 
complex  but  graceful  garment  of  bluish  white,  and 
Graham  was  clothed  in  the  fashion  once  more  and  saw 
himself,  sallow-faced,  unshaven  and  shaggy  still,  but 
at  least  naked  no  longer,  and  in  some  indefinable 
unprecedented  way  graceful. 

"  I  must  shave,"  he  said  regarding  himself  in  the 
glass. 

"  In  a  moment,"  said  Howard. 

The  persistent  stare  ceased.  The  young  man  closed 
his  eyes,  reopened  them,  and  with  a  lean  hand 
extended,  advanced  on  Graham.  Then  he  stopped, 
with  his  hand  slowly  gesticulating,  and  looked  about 
him. 

"  A  seat,"  said  Howard  impatiently,  and  in  a  moment 
the  flaxen-bearded  man  had  a  chair  behind  Graham. 
"  Sit  down,  please,"  said  Howard.  • 

Graham  hesitated,  and  in  the  other  hand  of  the  wild- 
eyed  man  he  saw  the  glint  of  steel. 

"Don't  you  understand,  Sire?"  cried  the  flaxen- 
bearded  man  with  hurried  politeness.  "  He  is  going 
to  cut  your  hair." 

42 


THE  SOUND  OF  A  TUMULT 

*'Oh!'*  cried  Graham  enlightened.  "But  you 
called  him — " 

"A  capillotomist  —  precisely!  He  is  one  of  the 
finest  artists  in  the  world." 

Graham  sat  down  abruptly.  The  flaxen-bearded 
man  disappeared.  The  capillotomist  came  forward 
with  graceful  gestures,  examined  Graham's  ears  and 
surveyed  him,  felt  the  back  of  his  head,  and  would 
have  sat  down  again  to  regard  him  but  for  Howard's 
audible  impatience.  Forthwith  with  rapid  movements 
and  a  succession  of  deftly  handled  implements  he 
shaved  Graham's  chin,  clipped  his  moustache,  and  cut 
and  arranged  his  hair.  All  this  he  did  without  a  word, 
with  something  of  the  rapt  air  of  a  poet  inspired.  And 
as  soon  as  he  had  finished  Graham  was  handed  a  pair 
of  shoes. 

Suddenly  a  loud  voice  shouted  —  it  seemed  from  a 
piece  of  machinery  in  the  corner  —  "At  once  —  at 
once.  The  people  know  all  over  the  city.  Work  is 
being  stopped.  Work  is  being  stopped.  Wait  for 
nothing,  but  come." 

This  shout  appeared  to  perturb  Howard  exceed- 
ingly. By  his  gestures  it  seemed  to  Graham  that  he 
hesitated  between  two  directions.  Abruptly  he  went 
towards  the  corner  where  the  apparatus  stood  about 
the  little  ctystal  ball.  As  he  did  so  the  undertone  of 
tumultuous  shouting  from  the  archway  that  had  con- 
tinued during  all  these  occurrences  rose  to  a  mighty 
sound,  roared  as  if  it  were  sweeping  past,  and  fell 
again  as  if  receding  swiftly.  It  drew  Graham  after  it 
with  an   irresistible   attraction.     He  glanced  at   the 

43 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

thickset  man,  and  then  obeyed  his  impulse.  In  two 
strides  he  was  down  the  steps  and  in  the  passage,  and 
in  a  score  he  was  out  upon  the  balcony  upon  which 
the  three  men  had  been  standing. 


44 


•■  He  wtnt  to  the  railings  of  the  balcony  and  leant  forward.  .  .  .  The  place  into 
which  he  looked  was  an  aisle  of  Titanic  buildings,  curving  away  in  a  spacious  sweep 
in  eithrr  direction  " — yage  45. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE    MOVING    WAYS 

He  went  to  the  railings  of  the  balcony  and  stared 
upward.  An  exclamation  of  surprise  at  his  appear- 
ance, and  the  movements  of  a  number  of  people  came 
from  the  spacious  area  below. 

His  first  impression  was  of  overwhelming  architec- 
ture. The  place  into  which  he  looked  was  an  aisle  of 
Titanic  buildings,  curving  spaciously  in  either  direc- 
tion. Overhead  mighty  cantilevers  sprang  together 
across  the  huge  width  of  the  place,  and  a  tracery  of 
translucent  material  shut  out  the  sky.  Gigantic 
globes  of  cool  white  light  shamed  the  pale  sunbeams 
that  filtered  down  through  the  girders  and  wires. 
Here  and  there  a  gossamer  suspension  bridge  dotted 
with  foot  passengers  flung  across  the  chasm  and  the 
air  was  webbed  with  slender  cables.  A  clifif  of  edifice 
hung  above  him,  he  perceived  as  he  glanced  upward, 
and  the  opposite  faqade  was  grey  and  dim  and  broken 
by  great  archings,  circular  perforations,  balconies,  but- 
tresses, turret  projections,  myriads  of  vast  windows, 
and  an  intricate  scheme  of  architectural  relief. 
Athwart  these  ran  inscriptions  horizontally  and 
obliquely  in  an  unfamiliar  lettering.  Here  and  there 
close  to  the  roof  cables  of  a  peculiar  stoutness  were 
fastened,  and  drooped  in  a  steep  curve  to  circular 
openings  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  space,  and  even 

45 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

as  Graham  noted  these  a  remote  and  tiny  figure  of  a 
man  clad  in  pale  blue  arrested  his  attention.  This  lit- 
tle figure  was  far  overhead  across  the  space  beside  the 
higher  fastening  of  one  of  these  festoons,  hanging  for- 
ward from  a  little  ledge  of  masonry  and  handling  some 
well-nigh  invisible  strings  dependent  from  the  line. 
Then  suddenly,  with  a  swoop  that  sent  Graham's  heart 
into  his  mouth,  this  man  had  rushed  down  the  curve 
and  vanished  through  a  round  opening  on  the  hither 
side  of  the  way.  Graham  had  been  looking  up  as  he 
came  out  upon  the  balcony,  and  the  things  he  saw 
above  and  opposed  to  him  had  at  first  seized  his  atten- 
tion to  the  exclusion  of  anything  else.  Then  suddenly 
he  discovered  the  roadway!  It  was  not  a  roadway  at 
all,  as  Graham  understood  such  things,  for  in  the 
■nineteenth  century  the  only  roads  and  streets  were 
beaten  tracks  of  motionless  earth,  jostling  rivulets  of 
vehicles  between  narrow  footways.  But  this  roadway 
was  three  hundred  feet  across,  and  it  moved ;  it  moved, 
all  save  the  middle,  the  lowest  part.  For  a  moment, 
the  motion  dazzled  his  mind.    Then  he  understood. 

Under  the  balcony  this  extraordinary  roadway  ran 
swiftly  to  Graham's  right,  an  endless  flow  rushing 
along  as  fast  as  a  nineteenth  century  express  train,  an 
endless  platform  of  narrow  transverse  overlapping 
slats  with  little  interspaces  that  permitted  it  to  follow 
the  curvatures  of  the  street.  Upon  it  were  seats,  and 
here  and  there  little  kiosks,  but  they  swept  by  too 
swiftly  for  him  to  see  what  might  be  therein.  From 
this  nearest  and  swiftest  platform  a  series  of  others 
descended  to  the  centre  of  the  space.  Each  moved  to 
the  right,  each  perceptibly  slower  than  the  one  above 

46 


THE  MOVING  WAYS 

it,  but  the  difference  in  pace  was  small  enough  to  per- 
mit anyone  to  step  from  any  platform  to  the  one  adja- 
cent, and  so  walk  uninterruptedly  from  the  swiftest  to 
the  motionless  middle  way.  Beyond  this  middle  way 
was  another  series  of  endless  platforms  rushing  with 
varying  pace  to  Graham's  left.  And  seated  in  crowds 
upon  the  two  widest  and  swiftest  platforms,  or  step- 
ping from  one  to  another  down  the  steps,  or  swarming 
over  the  central  space,  was  an  innumerable  and  won- 
derfully diversified  multitude  of  people. 

"  You  must  not  stop  here,"  shouted  Howard  sud- 
denly at  his  side.    "  You  must  come  away  at  once." 

Graham  made  no  answer.  He  heard  without  hear- 
ing. The  platforms  ran  with  a  roar  and  the  people 
were  shouting.  He  perceived  women  and  girls  with 
flowing  hair,  beautifully  robed,  with  bands  crossing 
between  the  breasts.  These  first  came  out  of  the 
confusion.  Then  he  perceived  that  the  dominant  note 
in  that  kaleidoscope  of  costume  was  the  pale  blue  that 
the  tailor's  boy  had  worn.  He  became  aware  of  cries 
of  "  The  Sleeper.  What  has  happened  to  the  Sleeper?  " 
and  it  seemed  as  though  the  rushing  platforms  before 
him  were  suddenly  spattered  with  the  pale  buff  of 
human  faces,  and  then  still  more  thickly.  He  saw 
pointing  fingers.  He  perceived  that  the  motionless 
central  area  of  this  huge  arcade  just  opposite  to  the 
balcony  was  densely  crowded  with  blue-clad  people. 
Some  sort  of  struggle  had  sprung  into  life.  People 
seemed  to  be  pushed  up  the  running  platforms  on  either 
side,  and  carried  away  against  their  will.  They  would 
spring  off  so  soon  as  they  were  beyond  the  thick  of 
the  confusion,  and  run  back  towards  the  conflict. 

47 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  It  is  the  Sleeper.  Verily  it  is  the  Sleeper,"  shouted 
voices.  "  That  is  never  the  Sleeper,"  shouted 
others.  More  and  more  faces  were  turned  to  him.  At 
the  intervals  along  this  central  area  Graham  noted 
openings,  pits,  apparently  the  heads  of  staircases  going 
down  with  people  ascending  out  of  them  and 
descending  into  them.  The  struggle  it  seemed  centred 
about  the  one  of  these  nearest  to  him.  People  were 
running  down  the  moving  platforms  to  this,  leaping 
dexterously  from  platform  to  platform.  The  cluster- 
ing people  on  the  higher  platforms  seemed  to  divide 
their  interest  between  this  point  and  the  balcony.  A 
number  of  sturdy  little  figures  clad  in  a  uniform  of 
bright  red,  and  working  methodically  together,  were 
employed  it  seemed  in  preventing  access  to  this 
descending  staircase.  About  them  a  crowd  was  rapidly 
accumulating.  Their  brilliant  colour  contrasted  vividly 
with  the  whitish-blue  of  their  antagonists,  for  the 
struggle  was  indisputable. 

He  saw  these  things  with  Howard  shouting  in  his 
ear  and  shaking  his  arm.  And  then  suddenly  Howard 
was  gone  and  he  stood  alone. 

He  perceived  that  the  cries  of  "  The  Sleeper!  "  grew 
in  volume,  and  that  the  people  on  the  nearer  platform 
were  standing  up.  The  nearer  swifter  platform  he 
perceived  was  empty  to  the  right  of  him,  and  far 
across  the  space  the  platform  running  in  the  opposite 
direction  was  coming  crowded  and  passing  away  bare. 
With  incredible  swiftness  a  vast  crowd  had  gathered 
in  the  central  space  before  his  eyes;  a  dense  swaying 
mass  of  people,  and  the  shouts  grew  from  a  fitful  cry- 
ing to  a  voluminous  incessant  clamour:  "  The  Sleeper! 

48 


THE  MOVING  WAYS 

The  Sleeper!  "  and  yells  and  cheers,  a  waving  of  gar- 
ments and  cries  of  "  Stop  the  ways!  "  They  were  also 
crying  another  name  strange  to  Graham.  It  sounded 
like  "  Ostrog."  The  slower  platforms  were  soon  thick 
with  active  people,  running  against  the  movement  so 
as  to  keep  themselves  opposite  to  him. 

"  Stop  the  ways,"  they  cried.  Agile  figures  ran  up 
swiftly  from  the  centre  to  the  swift  road  nearest  to  him, 
were  borne  rapidly  past  him,  shouting  strange,  unin- 
telligible things,  and  ran  back  obliquely  to  the  central 
way.  One  thing  he  distinguished:  "  It  is  indeed  the 
Sleeper.    It  is  indeed  the  Sleeper,"  they  testified. 

For  a  space  Graham  stood  without  a  movement. 
Then  he  became  vividly  aware  that  all  this  concerned 
him.  He  was  pleased  at  his  wonderful  popularity,  he 
bowed,  and,  seeking  a  gesture  of  longer  range,  waved 
his  arm.  He  was  astonished  at  the  violence  of  uproar 
that  this  provoked.  The  tumult  about  the  descending 
stairway  rose  to  furious  violence.  He  became  aware 
of  crowded  balconies,  of  men  sliding  along  ropes,  of 
men  in  trapeze-like  seats  hurling  athwart  the  space. 
He  heard  voices  behind  him,  a  number  of  people 
descending  the  steps  through  the  archway;  he  sud- 
denly perceived  that  his  guardian  Howard  was  back 
again  and  gripping  his  arm  painfully,  and  shouting 
inaudibly  in  his  ear. 

He  turned,  and  Howard's  face  was  white.  "  Come 
back,"  he  heard.  "  They  will  stop  the  ways.  The 
whole  city  will  be  in  confusion." 

He  perceived  a  number  of  men  hurrying  along  the 
passage  of  blue  pillars  behind  Howard,  the  red-haired 
man,  the  man  with  the  flaxen  beard,  a  tall  man  in  vivid 

h9  ^ 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

vermilion,  a  crowd  of  others  in  red  carrying-  staves,  and 
all  these  people  had  anxious  eager  faces. 
"  Get  him  away,"  cried  Howard. 
"  But  why?"  said  Graham.  "  I  don't  see — " 
"  You  must  come  away !  "  said  the  man  in  red  in  a 
resolute  voice.  His  face  and  eyes  were  resolute,  too. 
Graham's  glances  went  from  face  to  face,  and  he  was 
suddenly  aware  of  that  most  disagreeable  flavour  in 
life,  compulsion.  Some  one  gripped  his  arm.  .  .  . 
He  was  being  dragged  away.  It  seemed  as  though  the 
tumult  suddenly  became  two,  as  if  half  the  shouts  that 
had  come  in  from  this  wonderful  roadway  had  sprung 
into  the  passages  of  the  great  building  behind  him. 
Marvelling  and  confused,  feeling  an  impotent  desire 
to  resist,  Graham  was  half  led,  half  thrust,  along  the 
passage  of  blue  pillars,  and  suddenly  he  found  him- 
self alone  with  Howard  in  a  lift  and  moving-  swiftly 
upward. 


50 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  HALL  OF  THE  ATLAS 

From  the  moment  when  the  tailor  had  bowed  his 
farewell  to  the  moment  when  Graham  found  himself 
in  the  lift,  was  altogether  barely  five  minutes.  And 
as  yet  the  haze  of  his  vast  interval  of  sleep  hung  about 
him,  as  yet  the  initial  strangeness  of  his  being  alive 
at  all  in  this  remote  age  touched  everything  with  won- 
der, with  a  sense  of  the  irrational,  with  something  of 
the  quality  of  a  realistic  dream.  He  was  still  detached, 
an  astonished  spectator,  still  but  half  involved  in  life. 
What  he  had  seen,  and  especially  the  last  crowded 
tumult,  framed  in  the  setting  of  the  balcony,  had  a 
spectacular  turn,  like  a  thing  witnessed  from  the  box 
of  a  theatre.  "  I  don't  understand,"  he  said.  "  What 
was  the  trouble?  My  mind  is  in  a  whirl.  Why  were 
they  shouting?    What  is  the  danger?  " 

*'  We  have  our  troubles,"  said  Howard.  His  eyes 
avoided  Graham's  enquiry.  "  This  is  a  time  of  unrest. 
And,  in  fact,  your  appearance,  your  waking  just  now, 
has  a  sort  of  connexion  — " 

He  spoke  jerkily,  like  a  man  not  quite  sure  of  his 
breathing.    He  stopped  abruptly. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Graham. 

"  It  will  be  clearer  later,"  said  Howard. 

He  glanced  uneasily  upward,  as  though  he  found  the 
progress  of  the  lift  slow. 

51 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  I  shall  understand  better,  no  doubt,  when  I  have 
seen  my  way  about  a  little,"  said  Graham  puzzled.  "  It 
will  be  —  it  is  bound  to  be  perplexing.  At  present  it  is 
all  so  strange.  Anything  seems  possible.  Anything. 
In  the  details  even.  Your  counting,  I  understand,  is 
different." 

The  lift  stopped,  and  they  stepped  out  into  a  narrow 
but  very  long  passage  between  high  walls,  along 
which  ran  an  extraordinary  number  of  tubes  and  big 
cables. 

'*  What  a  huge  place  this  is!  "  said  Graham.  "  Is  it 
all  one  building?    What  place  is  it?  " 

"  This  is  one  of  the  city  ways  for  various  public 
services.    Light  and  so  forth." 

"  W^as  it  a  social  trouble  —  that  —  in  the  great 
roadway  place?  How  are  you  governed?  Have  you 
still  a  poHce?  " 

"  Several,"  said  Howard. 

"Several?" 

"  About  fourteen." 

"  I  don't  understand." 

"  Very  probably  not.  Our  social  order  will  probably 
seem  very  complex  to  you.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I 
don't  understand  it  myself  very  clearly.  Nobody  does. 
You  will,  perhaps  —  bye  and  bye.  We  have  to  go  to 
the  Council." 

Graham's  attention  was  divided  between  the  urgent 
necessity  of  his  inquiries  and  the  people  in  the  pas- 
sages and  halls  they  were  traversing.  For  a  moment 
his  mind  would  be  concentrated  upon  Howard  and 
the  halting  answers  he  made,  and  then  he  would  lose 
the  thread    in   response    to    some    vivid    unexpected 

52 


THE  HALL  OF  THE  ATLAS 

impression.  Along  the  passages,  in  the  halls,  half  the 
people  seemed  to  be  men  in  the  red  uniform.  The  pale 
blue  canvas  that  had  been  so  abundant  in  the  aisle  of 
moving  ways  did  not  appear.  Invariably  these  men 
looked  at  him,  and  saluted  him  and  Howard  as  they 
passed. 

He  had  a  clear  vision  of  entering  a  long  corridor, 
and  there  were  a  number  of  girls  sitting  on  low  seats, 
and  as  though  in  a  class.  He  saw  no  teacher,  but  only 
a  novel  apparatus  from  which  he  fancied  a  voice  pro- 
ceeded. The  girls  regarded  him  and  his  conductor,  he 
thought,  with  curiosity  and  astonishment.  But  he  was 
hurried  on  before  he  could  form  a  clear  idea  of  the 
gathering.  He  judged  they  knew  Howard  and  not 
himself,  and  that  they  wondered  who  he  was.  This 
Howard,  it  seemed,  was  a  person  of  importance.  But 
then  he  was  also  merely  Graham's  guardian.  That 
was  odd. 

There  came  a  passage  in  twilight,  and  into  this  pas- 
sage a  footway  hung  so  that  he  could  see  the  feet  and 
ankles  of  people  going  to  and  fro  thereon,  but  no 
more  of  them.  Then  vague  impressions  of  galleries 
and  of  casual  astonished  passers-by  turning  round  to 
stare  after  the  two  of  them  with  their  red-clad  guard. 

The  stimulus  of  the  restoratives  he  had  taken  was 
only  temporary.  He  was  speedily  fatigued  by  this 
excessive  haste.  He  asked  Howard  to  slacken  his 
speed.  Presently  he  was  in  a  lift  that  had  a  window 
upon  the  great  street  space,  but  this  was  glazed  and 
did  not  open,  and  they  were  too  high  for  him  to  see 
the  moving  platforms  below.    But  he  saw  people  going 

53 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

to  and  fro  along  cables  and  along  strange,  frail-look- 
ing bridges. 

And  thence  they  passed  across  the  street  and  at  a  vast 
height  above  it.  They  crossed  by  means  of  a  narrow 
bridge  closed  in  with  glass,  so  clear  that  it  made  him 
giddy  even  to  remember  it.  The  floor  of  it  also  was 
of  glass.  From  his  memory  of  the  cliffs  between  New 
Quay  and  Boscastle,  so  remote  in  time,  and  so  recent 
in  his  experience,  it  seemed  to  him  that  they  must  be 
near  four  hundred  feet  above  the  moving  ways.  He 
stopped,  looked  down  between  his  legs  upon  the 
swarming  blue  and  red  multitudes,  minute  and  fore- 
shortened, struggling  and  gesticulating  still  towards 
the  little  balcony  far  below,  a  little  toy  balcony,  it 
seemed,  where  he  had  so  recently  been  standing.  A 
thin  haze  and  the  glare  of  the  mighty  globes  of  light 
obscured  everything.  A  man  seated  in  a  little  open- 
work cradle  shot  by  from  some  point  still  higher  than 
the  little  narrow  bridge,  rushing  down  a  cable  as 
swiftly  almost  as  if  he  were  falling.  Graham  stopped 
involuntarily  to  watch  this  strange  passenger  vanish 
in  a  great  circular  opening  below,  and  then  his  eyes 
went  back  to  the  tumultuous  struggle. 

Along  one  of  the  swifter  ways  rushed  a  thick  crowd 
of  red  spots.  This  broke  up  into  individuals  as  it 
approached  the  balcony,  and  went  pouring  down  the 
slower  ways  towards  the  dense  struggling  crowd  on 
the  central  area.  These  men  in  red  appeared  to  be 
armed  with  sticks  or  truncheons;  they  seemed  to  be 
striking  and  thrusting.  A  great  shouting,  cries  of 
wrath,  screaming,  burst  out  and  came  up  to  Graham, 

54 


THE  HALL  OP  THE  ATLAS 

faint  and  thin.  "  Go  on,"  cried  Howard,  laying  hands 
on  him. 

Another  man  rushed  down  a  cable.  Graham'  sud- 
denly glanced  up  to  see  whence  he  came,  and  beheld 
through  the  glassy  roof  and  the  network  of  cables  and 
girders,  dim  rhythmically  passing  forms  like  the  vans 
of  windmills,  and  between  them  glimpses  of  a  remote 
and  pallid  sky.  Then  Howard  had  thrust  him  forward 
across  the  bridge,  and  he  was  in  a  little  narrow  pas- 
sage decorated  with  geometrical  patterns. 

"  I  want  to  see  more  of  that,"  cried  Graham, 
resisting. 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Howard,  still  gripping  his  arm. 
"  This  way.  You  must  go  this  way."  And  the  men  in 
red  following  them  seemed  ready  to  enforce  his  orders. 

Some  negroes  in  a  curious  wasp-like  uniform  of  black 
and  yellow  appeared  down  the  passage,  and  one  has- 
tened to  throw  up  a  sliding  shutter  that  had  seemed 
a  door  to  Graham,  and  led  the  way  through  it. 
Graham  found  himself  in  a  gallery  overhanging  the 
end  of  a  great  chamber.  The  attendant  in  black  and 
yellow  crossed  this,  thrust  up  a  second  shutter  and 
stood  waiting. 

This  place  had  the  appearance  of  an  ante-room.  He 
saw  a  number  of  people  in  the  central  space,  and  at 
the  opposite  end  a  large  and  imposing  doorway  at  the 
top  of  a  flight  of  steps,  heavily  curtained  but  giving  a 
glimpse  of  some  still  larger  hall  beyond.  He  perceived 
white  men  in  red  and  other  negroes  in  black  and  yel- 
low standing  stiffly  about  those  portals. 

As  they  crossed  the  gallery  he  heard  a  whisper  from 
below,  "  The  Sleeper,"  and  was  aware  of  a  turning  of 

55 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

heads,  a  hum  of  observation.  They  entered  another 
little  passage  in  the  wall  of  this  ante-chamber,  and 
then  he  found  himself  on  an  iron-railed  gallery  of 
metal  that  passed  round  the  side  of  the  great  hall  he 
had  already  seen  through  the  curtains.  He  entered 
the  place  at  the  corner,  so  that  he  received  the  fullest 
impression  of  its  huge  proportions.  The  black  in  the 
wasp  uniform  stood  aside  like  a  well-trained  servant, 
and  closed  the  valve  behind  him. 

Compared  with  any  of  the  places  Graham  had  seen 
thus  far,  this  second  hall  appeared  to  be  decorated 
with  extreme  richness.  On  a  pedestal  at  the  remoter 
end,  and  more  brilliantly  lit  than  any  other  object,  was 
a  gigantic  white  figure  of  Atlas,  strong  and  strenuous, 
the  globe  upon  his  bowed  shoulders.  It  was  the  first 
thing  to  strike  his  attention,  it  was  so  vast,  so  patiently 
and  painfully  real,  so  white  and  simple.  Save  for  this 
figure  and  for  a  dais  in  the  centre,  the  wide  floor  of  the 
place  was  a  shining  vacancy.  The  dais  was  remote 
in  the  greatness  of  the  area;  it  would  have  looked  a 
mere  slab  of  metal  had  it  not  been  for  the  group  of 
seven  men  who  stood  about  a  table  on  it,  and  gave  an 
inkling  of  its  proportions.  They  were  all  dressed  in 
white  robes,  they  seemed  to  have  arisen  that  moment 
from  their  seats,  and  they  were  regarding  Graham 
steadfastly.  At  the  end  of  the  table  he  perceived  the 
glitter  of  some  mechanical  appliances. 

Howard  led  him.  along  the  end  gallery  until  they 
were  opposite  this  mighty  labouring  figure.  Then  he 
stopped.  The  two  men  in  red  who  had  followed  them 
into  the  gallery  came  and  stood  on  -either  hand  of 
Graham. 

56 


THE  HALL  OF  THE  ATLAS 

"  You  must  remain  here,"  murmured  Howard,  "  for 
a  few  moments,"  and,  without  waiting  for  a  reply, 
hurried  away  along  the  gallery. 

"  But,  why — f  "  began  Graham. 

He  moved  as  if  to  follow  Howard,  and  found  his 
path  obstructed  by  one  of  the  men  in  red.  "  You  have 
to  wait  here,  Sire,"  said  the  man  in  red. 

"  Why?  " 

"  Orders,  Sire." 

"Whose  orders?" 

"  Our  orders.  Sire." 

Graham  looked  his  exasperation. 

"What  place  is  this?"  he  said  presently.  "Who 
are  those  men?  " 

"  They  are  the  lords  of  the  Council,  Sire." 

"What  Council?" 

"  The  Council." 

"  Oh!  "  said  Graham,  and  after  an  equally  inefifectual 
attempt  at  the  other  man,  went  tO'  the  railing  and 
stared  at  the  distant  men  in  white,  who  stood  watching 
him  and  whispering  together. 

The  Council?  He  perceived  there  were  now  eight, 
though  how  the  newcomer  had  arrived  he  had  not 
observed.  They  made  no  gestures  of  greeting;  they 
stood  regarding  him  as  in  the  nineteenth  century  a 
group  of  men  might  have  stood  in  the  street  regarding 
a  distant  balloon  that  had  suddenly  floated  into  view. 
What  council  could  it  be  that  gathered  there,  that  little 
body  of  men  beneath  the  significant  white  Atlas, 
secluded  from  every  eavesdropper  in  this  impressive 
spaciousness?  And  why  should  he  be  brought  to 
them,    and   be    looked   at   strangely   and    spoken    of 

57 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

inaudibly?  Howard  appeared  beneath,  walking 
quickly  across  the  polished  floor  tow^ards  them.  As  he 
drew  near  he  bowed  and  performed  certain  peculiar 
movements,  apparently  of  a  ceremonious  nature. 
Then  he  ascended  the  steps  of  the  dais,  and  stood  by 
the  apparatus  at  the  end  of  the  table. 

Graham  watched  that  visible  inaudible  conversation. 
Occasionally,  one  of  the  white-robed  men  would 
glance  towards  him.  He  strained  his  ears  in  vain. 
The  gesticulation  of  two  of  the  speakers  became  ani- 
mated. He  glanced  from  them  to  the  passive  faces  of 
his  attendants.  .  .  .  When  he  looked  again  Howard 
was  extending  his  hands  and  moving  his  head  like  a 
man  who  protests.  He  was  interrupted,  it  seemed,  by 
one  of  the  white-robed  men  rapping  the  table. 

The  conversation  lasted  an  interminable  time  to 
Graham's  sense.  His  eyes  rose  to  the  still  giant  at 
whose  feet  the  Council  sat.  Thence  they  wandered 
at  last  to  the  walls  of  the  hall.     It  was  decorated    in 

long  painted  panels  of  a  quasi-Japanese  type,  many 
of  them  very  beautiful.  These  panels  were  grouped 
in  a  great  and  elaborate  framing  of  dark  metal,  which 
passed  into  the  metallic  caryatidae  of  thegalleries,  and 
the  great  structural  lines  of  the  interior.  The  facile 
grace  of  these  panels  enhanced  the  mighty  white  effort 
that  laboured  in  the  centre  of  the  scheme.  Graham's 
eyes  came  back  to  the  Council,  and  Howard  was 
descending  the  steps.  As  he  drew  nearer  his  features 
could  be  distinguished,  and  Graham  saw  that  he  was 
flushed  and  blowing  out  his  cheeks.  His  countenance 
was  still  disturbed  when  presently  he  reappeared  along 
the  gallery. 

58 


THE  HALL  OF  THE  ATLAS 

"  This  way,"  he  said  concisely,  and  they  went  on  in 
silence  to  a  little  door  that  opened  at  their  approach. 
The  two  men  in  red  stopped  on  either  side  of  this  door. 
Howard  and  Graham  passed  in,  and  Graham,  glancing 
back,  saw  the  white-robed  Council  still  standing  in  a 
close  group  and  looking  at  him.  Then  the  door  closed 
behind  him  with  a  heavy  thud,  and  for  the  first  time 
since  his  awakening  he  was  in  silence.  The  floor,  even, 
was  noiseless  to  his  feet. 

Howard  opened  another  door,  and  they  were  in  the 
first  of  two  contiguous  chambers  furnished  in  white 
and  green.  "  What  Council  was  that?  "  began  Gra- 
ham. "  What  were  they  discussing?  What  have 
they  to  do  with  me?  "  Howard  closed  the  door  care- 
fully, heaved  a  huge  sigh,  and  said  something  in  an 
undertone.  He  walked  slantingways  across  the  room 
and  turned,  blowing  out  his  cheeks  again.  "  Ugh!  " 
he  grunted,  a  man  relieved. 

Graham  stood  regarding  him. 

"  You  must  understand,"  began  Howard  abruptly, 
avoiding  Graham's  eyes,  "  that  our  social  order  is 
very  complex.  A  half  explanation,  a  bare  unqualified 
statement  would  give  you  false  impressions.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  —  it  is  a  case  of  compound  interest 
partly  —  your  small  fortune,  and  the  fortune  of  your 
cousin  Warming  which  was  left  to  you  —  and  certain 
other  beginnings  —  have  become  very  considerable. 
And  in  other  ways  that  will  be  hard  for  you  to  under- 
stand, you  have  become  a  person  of  significance  —  of 
very  considerable  significance  —  involved  in  the 
world's  affairs." 

He  stopped. 

59 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  Yes?  "  said  Graham. 

"  We  have  grave  social  troubles." 

"Yes?" 

"  Things  have  come  to  such  a  pass  that,  in  fact,  it 
is  advisable  to  seclude  you  here." 

"  Keep  me  prisoner!  "  exclaimed  Graham. 

"  Well  —  to  ask  you  to  keep  in  seclusion," 

Graham  turned  on  him.  "This  is  strange!"  he 
said. 

"  No  harm  will  be  done  you." 

"No  harm!" 

"  But  you  must  be  kept  here  — " 

"  While  I  learn  my  position,  I  presume." 

"  Precisely." 

"  Very  well  then.     Begin.     Why  harm?  " 

"  Not  now." 

"Why  not?" 

"  It  is  too  long  a  story,  Sire." 

"  All  the  more  reason  I  should  begin  at  once.  You 
say  I  am  a  person  of  importance.  What  was  that 
shouting  I  heard?  Why  is  a  great  multitude  shouting 
and  excited  because  my  trance  is  over,  and  who  are 
the  men  in  white  in  that  huge  council  chamber?  " 

"  All  in  good  time.  Sire,"  said  Howard.  "  But  not 
crudely,  not  crudely.  This  is  one  of  those  flimsy  times 
when  no  man  has  a  settled  mind.  Your  awakening. 
No  one  expected  your  awakening.  The  Council  is 
consulting." 

"What  council?" 

"  The  Council  you  saw." 

Graham  made  a  petulant  movement.  "  This  is  not 
60 


THE  HALL  OF  THE  ATLAS 

right,"  he  said.  "  I  should  be  told  what  is  hap- 
pening." 

"  You  must  wait.     Really  you  must  wait." 

Graham  sat  down  abruptly.  "  I  suppose  since  I 
have  waited  so  long  to  resume  life,"  he  said,  "  that  I 
must  wait  a  little  longer." 

"  That  is  better,"  said  Howard.  ''  Yes,  that  is  much 
better.  And  I  must  leave  you  alone.  For  a  space. 
While  I  attend  the  discussion  in  the  Council.  .  .  . 
I  am  sorry." 

He  went  towards  the  noiseless  door,  hesitated  and 
vanished. 

Graham  walked  to  the  door,  tried  it,  found  it  se- 
curely fastened  in  some  way  he  never  came  to  under- 
stand, turned  about,  paced  the  room  restlessly,  made 
the  circuit  of  the  room,  and  sat  down.  He  remained 
sitting  for  some  time  with  folded  arms  and  knitted 
brow,  biting  his  finger  nails  and  trying  to  piece 
together  the  kaleidoscopic  impressions  of  this  first 
hour  of  awakened  life;  the  vast  mechanical  spaces,  the 
endless  series  of  chambers  and  passages,  the  great 
struggle  that  roared  and  splashed  through  these 
strange  ways,  the  little  group  of  remote  unsympathetic 
men  beneath  the  colossal  Atlas,  Howard's  mysterious 
behaviour.  There  was  an  inkling  of  some  vast  inher- 
itance already  in  his  mind  —  a  vast  inheritance  per- 
haps misapplied  —  of  some  unprecedented  importance 
and  opportunity.  What  had  he  to  do?  And  this 
room's  secluded  silence  was  eloquent  of  imprisonment! 

It  came  into  Graham's  mind  with  irresistible  con- 
viction that  this  series  of  magnificent  impressions  was 

6i 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

a  dream.  He  tried  to  shut  his  eyes  and  succeeded, 
but  that  time-honoured  device  led  to  no  awakening. 

Presently  he  began  to  touch  and  examine  all  the 
unfamiliar  appointments  of  the  two  small  rooms  in 
which  he  found  himself. 

In  a  long  oval  panel  of  mirror  he  saw  himself  and 
stopped  astonished.  He  was  clad  in  a  graceful  cos- 
tume of  purple  and  bluish  white,  with  a  little  greyshot 
beard  trimmed  to  a  point,  and  his  hair,  its  blackness 
streaked  now  with  bands  of  grey,  arranged  over  his 
forehead  in  an  unfamiliar  but  graceful  manner.  He 
seemed  a  man  of  five-and-forty  perhaps.  For  a 
moment  he  did  not  perceive  this  was  himself. 

A  flash  of  laughter  came  with  the  recognition.  "  To 
call  on  old  Warming  like  this!  "  he  exclaimed,  "and 
make  him  take  me  out  to  lunch !  " 

Then  he  thought  of  meeting  first  one  and  then 
another  of  the  few  familiar  acquaintances  of  his  early 
manhood,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  amusement  realised 
that  every  soul  with  whom  he  might  jest  had  died 
many  score  of  years  ago.  The  thought  smote  him 
abruptly  and  keenly;  he  stopped  short,  the  expression 
of  his  face  changed  to  a  white  consternation. 

The  tumultuous  memory  of  the  moving  platforms 
and  the  huge  faqade  of  that  wonderful  street  reasserted 
itself.  The  shouting  multitudes  came  back  clear  and 
vivid,  and  those  remote,  inaudible,  unfriendly  council- 
lors in  white.  He  felt  himself  a  little  figure,  very 
small  and  ineffectual,  pitifully  conspicuous.  And  all 
about  him,  the  world  was  —  strange. 


62 


CHAPTER  VII 
IN  THE  SILENT  ROOMS 

Presently  Graham  resumed  his  examination  of  his 
apartments.  Curiosity  kept  him  moving"  in  spite  of 
his  fatigue.  The  inner  room,  he  perceived,  was  high, 
and  its  ceiHng  dome  shaped,  with  an  oblong  aperture 
in  the  centre,  opening  into  a  funnel  in  which  a  wheel 
of  broad  vans  seemed  to  be  rotating,  apparently  driv- 
ing the  air  up  the  shaft.  The  faint  humming  note  of 
its  easy  motion  was  the  only  clear  sound  in  that  quiet 
place.  As  these  vans  sprang  up  one  after  the  other, 
Graham  could  get  transient  glimpses  of  the  sky.  He 
was  surprised  to  see  a  star. 

This  drew  his  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  bright 
lighting  of  these  rooms  was  due  to  a  multitude  of  very- 
faint  glow  lamps  set  about  the  cornices.  There  were 
no  windows.  And  he  began  to  recall  that  along  all 
the  vast  chambers  and  passages  he  had  traversed  with 
Howard  he  had  observed  no  windows  at  all.  Had 
there  been  windows?  There  were  windows  on  the 
street  indeed,  but  were  they  for  light?  Or  was  the 
whole  city  lit  day  and  night  for  evermore,  so  that 
there  was  no  night  there? 

And  another  thing  dawned  upon  him.  There  was 
no  fireplace  in  either  room.  Was  the  season  summer, 
and  were  these  merely  summer  apartments,  or  was 
the  whole  city  uniformly  heated  or  cooled?    He  be- 

63 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

came  interested  in  these  questions,  began  examining 
the  smooth  texture  of  the  walls,  the  simply  constructed 
bed,  the  ingenious  arrangements  by  which  the  labour 
of  bedroom  service  was  practically  abolished.  And 
over  everything  was  a  curious  absence  of  deliberate 
ornament,  a  bare  grace  of  form  and  colour,  that  he 
found  very  pleasing  to  the  eye.  There  were  several 
very  comfortable  chairs,  a  light  table  on  silent  runners 
carrying  several  bottles  of  fluids  and  glasses,  and  two 
plates  bearing  a  clear  substance  like  jelly.  Then  he 
noticed  there  were  no  books,  no  newspapers,  no  writ- 
ing materials.  "  The  world  has  changed  indeed,"  he 
said. 

He  observed  one  entire  side  of  the  outer  room  was 
set  with  rows  of  peculiar  double  cylinders  inscribed 
with  green  lettering  on  white  that  harmonized  with 
the  decorative  scheme  of  the  room,  and  in  the  centre 
of  this  side  projected  a  little  apparatus  about  a  yard 
square  and  having  a  white  smooth  face  to  the  room.  A 
chair  faced  this.  He  had  a  transitory  idea  that  these 
cylinders  might  be  books,  or  a  modern  substitute  for 
books,  but  at  first  it  did  not  seem  so. 

The  lettering  on  the  cylinders  puzzled  him.  At  first 
sight  it  seemed  like  Russian.  Then  he  noticed  a  sug- 
gestion of  mutilated  English  about  certain  of  the 
words. 

"  0i  Man  huwdbi  Ki^," 
forced  itself  on  him  as  "  The  Man  who  would  be 
King."  "  Phonetic  spelling."  he  said.  He  remem- 
bered reading  a  story  vvith  that  title,  then  he  recalled 
the  story  vividly,  one  of  the  best  stories  in  the  world. 
But  this  thing  before  him  was   not  a  book  as   he 

64 


IN  THE  SILENT  ROOMS 

understood  it.  He  puzzled  out  the  titles  of  two  adja- 
cent cylinders.  'The  Heart  of  Darkness/  he  had 
never  heard  of  before  nor  '  The  Madonna  of  the 
Future '  —  no  doubt  if  they  were  indeed  stories,  they 
were  by  post  Victorian  authors. 

He  puzzled  over  this  peculiar  cylinder  for  some  time 
and  replaced  it.  Then  he  turned  to  the  square  appa- 
ratus and  examined  that.  He  opened  a  sort  of  lid 
and  found  one  of  the  double  cylinders  within,  and 
on  the  upper  edge  a  little  stud  like  the  stud  of  an 
electric  bell.  He  pressed  this  and  a  rapid  clicking 
began  and  ceased.  He  became  aware  of  voices  and 
music,  and  noticed  a  play  of  colour  on  the  smooth 
front  face.  He  suddenly  reaHsed  what  this  might  be, 
and  stepped  back  to  regard  it. 

On  the  flat  surface  was  now  a  httle  picture,  very 
vividly  coloured,  and  in  this  picture  were  figures  that 
moved.  Not  only  did  they  move,  but  they  were  con- 
versing in  clear  small  voices.  It  was  exactly  like 
reality  viewed  through  an  inverted  opera  glass  and 
heard  through  a  long  tube.  His  interest  was  seized 
at  once  by  the  situation,  which  presented  a  man  pacing 
up  and  down  and  vociferating  angry  things  to  a  pretty 
but  petulant  woman.  Both  were  in  the  picturesque 
costume  that  seemed  so  strange  tO'  Graham.  "  I  have 
worked,"  said  the  man,  ''  but  what  have  you  been 
doing?" 

"Ah!"  said  Graham.  He  forgot  everything  else, 
and  sat  down  in  the  chair.  Within  five  minutes  he 
heard  himself  named,  heard  "when  the  Sleeper  wakes," 
used  jestingly  as  a  proverb  for  remote  postponement, 
and  passed  himself  by,  a  thing  remote  and  incredible. 

6s  E 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

But  in  a  little  while  he  knew  those  two  people  like 
intimate  friends. 

At  last  the  miniature  drama  came  to  an  end,  and 
the  square  face  of  the  apparatus  was  blank  again. 

It  was  a  strange  world  into  which  he  had  been  per- 
mitted to  see,  unscrupulous,  pleasure  seeking,  ener- 
getic, subtle,  a  world  too  of  dire  economic  struggle; 
there  were  allusions  he  did  not  understand,  incidents 
that  conveyed  strange  suggestions  of  altered  moral 
ideals,  flashes  of  dubious  enlightenment.  The  blue 
canvas  that  bulked  so  largely  in  his  first  impression 
of  the  city  ways  appeared  again  and  again  as  the  cos- 
tume of  the  common  people.  He  had  no  doubt  the 
story  was  contemporary,  and  its  intense  realism  was 
undeniable.  And  the  end  had  been  a  tragedy  that 
oppressed  him.     He  sat  staring  at  the  blankness. 

He  started  and  rubbed  his  eyes.  He  had  been  so 
absorbed  in  the  latter-day  substitute  for  a  novel,  that 
he  awoke  to  the  little  green  and  white  room  with  more 
than  a  touch  of  the  surprise  of  his  first  awakening. 

He  stood  up,  and  abruptly  he  was  back  in  his  own 
wonderland.  The  clearness  of  the  kinetoscope  drama 
passed,  and  the  struggle  in  the  vast  place  of  streets, 
the  ambiguous  Council,  the  swift  phases  of  his  waking 
hour,  came  back.  These  people  had  spoken  of  the 
Council  with  suggestions  of  a  vague  universality  of 
power.  And  they  had  spoken  of  the  Sleeper;  it  had 
not  really  struck  him  vividly  at  the  time  that  he  was 
the  Sleeper.  He  had  to  recall  precisely  what  they  had 
said.     .     .     . 

He  walked  into  the  bedroom  and  peered  up  through 
the  quick  intervals  of  the  revolving  fan.     As  the  fan 

66 


IN  THE  SILENT  ROOMS 

swept  round,  a  dim  turmoil  like  the  noise  of  machinery 
came  in  rhythmic  eddies.  All  else  was  silence. 
Though  the  perpetual  day  still  irradiated  his  apart- 
ments, he  perceived  the  little  intermittent  strip  of  sky 
was  now  deep  blue  —  black  almost,  with  a  dust  of 
little  stars.     .     .     . 

He  resumed  his  examination  of  the  rooms.  He 
could  find  no  way  of  opening  the  padded  door,  no  bell 
nor  other  means  of  calling  for  attendance.  His  feel- 
ing of  wonder  was  in  abeyance;  but  he  was  curious, 
anxious  for  information.  He  wanted  to  know  exactly 
how  he  stood  to  these  new  things.  He  tried  to  com- 
pose himself  to  wait  until  someone  came  to  him. 
Presently  he  became  restless  and  eager  for  informa- 
tion, for  distraction,  for  fresh  sensations. 

He  went  back  to  the  apparatus  in  the  other  room, 
and  had  soon  puzzled  out  the  method  of  replacing  the 
cylinders  by  others.  As  he  did  so,  it  came  into  his 
mind  that  it  must  be  these  little  appliances  had  fixed 
the  language  so  that  it  was  still  clear  and  understand- 
able after  two  hundred  years.  The  haphazard  cylin- 
ders he  substituted  displayed  a  musical  fantasia.  At 
first  it  was  beautiful,  and  then  it  was  sensuous.  He 
presently  recognized  what  appeared  to  him  to  be  an 
altered  version  of  the  story  of  Tannhauser.  The  music 
was  unfamiliar.  But  the  rendering  was  realistic,  and 
with  a  contemporary  unfamiliarity.  Tannhauser  did 
not  go  to  a  Venusberg,  but  to  a  Pleasure  City.  What 
was  a  Pleasure  City?  A  dream,  surely,  the  fancy  of 
a  fantastic,  voluptuous  writer. 

He  became  interested,  curious.  The  story  devel- 
oped with  a  flavour  of  strangely  twisted  sentimentality. 

67 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Suddenly  he  did  not  like  it.  He  liked  it  less  as  it 
proceeded. 

He  had  a  revulsion  of  feeling.  These  were  no  pic- 
tures, no  idealisations,  but  photographed  realities.  He 
wanted  no  more  of  the  twenty-second  century  Venus- 
berg.  He  forgot  the  part  played  by  the  model  in 
nineteenth  century  art,  and  gave  way  to  an  archaic 
indignation.  He  rose,  angry  and  half  ashamed  at  him- 
self for  witnessing  this  thing  even  in  solitude.  He 
pulled  forward  the  apparatus,  and  with  some  violence 
sought  for  a  means  of  stopping  its  action.  Something 
snapped.  A  violet  spark  stung  and  convulsed  his 
arm  and  the  thing  was  still.  When  he  attempted  next 
day  to  replace  these  Tannhauser  cylinders  by  another 
pair,  he  found  the  apparatus  broken.     .     .     . 

He  struck  out  a  path  oblique  to  the  room  and  paced 
to  and  fro,  struggling  with  intolerable  vast  impres- 
sions. The  things  he  had  derived  from  the  cylinders 
and  the  things  he  had  seen,  conflicted,  confused  him. 
It  seemed  to  him  the  most  amazing  thing  of  all  that 
in  his  thirty  years  of  life  he  had  never  tried  to  shape 
a  picture  of  these  coming  times.  "  We  were  making 
the  future,"  he  said,  "  and  hardly  any  of  us  troubled 
to  think  what  future  we  were  making.  And  here  it 
is!" 

"  What  have  they  got  to,  what  has  been  done?  How 
do  I  come  into  the  midst  of  it  all?  "  The  vastness  of 
street  and  house  he  was  prepared  for,  the  multitudes  of 
people.  But  conflicts  in  the  city  ways!  And  the  sys- 
tematised  sensuality  of  a  class  of  rich  men! 

He  thought  of  Bellamy,  the  hero  of  whose  Social- 
istic Utopia  had  so  oddly  anticipated  this  actual  expe^ 

68 


IN  THE  SILENT  ROOMS 

rience.  But  here  was  no  Utopia,  no  Socialistic  state. 
He  had  already  seen  enough  to  realise  that  the  ancient 
antithesis  of  luxury,  waste  and  sensuality  on  the  one 
hand  and  abject  poverty  on  the  other,  still  prevailed. 
He  knew  enough  of  the  essential  factors  of  life  to 
understand  that  correlation.  And  not  only  were  the 
buildings  of  the  city  gigantic  and  the  crowds  in  the 
street  gigantic,  but  the  voices  he  had  heard  in  the 
ways,  the  uneasiness  of  Howard,  the  very  atmosphere 
spoke  of  gigantic  discontent.  What  country  was  he 
in?  Still  England  it  seemed,  and  yet  strangely 
"  un-English."  His  mind  glanced  at  the  rest  of  the 
world,  and  saw  only  an  enigmatical  veil. 

He  prowled  about  his  apartment,  examining  every- 
thing as  a  caged  animal  might  do.  He  felt  very  tired, 
felt  that  feverish  exhaustion  that  does  not  admit  of  rest. 
He  listened  for  long  spaces  under  the  ventilator  to 
catch  some  distant  echo  of  the  tumults  he  felt  must  be 
proceeding  in  the  city. 

Ele  began  to  talk  to  himself.  "  Two  hundred  and 
three  years!  "  he  said  to  himself  over  and  over  again, 
laughing  stupidly.  "  Then  I  am  two  hundred  and 
thirty-three  years  old !  The  oldest  inhabitant.  Surely 
they  haven't  reversed  the  tendency  of  our  time  and 
gone  back  to  the  rule  of  the  oldest.  My  claims  are 
indisputable.  Mumble,  mumble.  I  remember  the  Bul- 
garian atrocities  as  though  it  was  yesterday.  'Tis  a 
great  age!  Ha  ha!"  He  was  surprised  at  first  to 
hear  himself  laughing,  and  then  laughed  again  delib- 
erately and  louder.  Then  he  realised  that  he  was 
behaving  foolishly.     "  Steady,"  he  said.     "  Steady!  " 

His  pacing  became  more  regular.  "  This  new 
69 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

world,"  he  said.    "  I  don't  understand  it.    Whyt   .   ,   . 
But  it  is  all  why! " 

"  I  suppose  they  can  fly  and  do  all  sorts  of  things. 
Let  me  try  and  remember  just  how  it  began." 

He  was  surprised  at  first  to  find  how  vague  the 
memories  of  his  first  thirty  years  had  become.  He 
remembered  fragments,  for  the  most  part  trivial 
moments,  things  of  no  great  importance  that  he  had 
observed.  His  boyhood  seemed  the  most  accessible 
at  first,  he  recalled  school  books  and  certain  lessons 
in  mensuration.  Then  he  revived  the  more  salient 
features  of  his  life,  memories  of  the  wife  long  since 
dead,  her  magic  influence  now  gone  beyond  corrup- 
tion, of  his  rivals  and  friends  and  betrayers,  of  the 
swift  decision  of  this  issue  and  that,  and  then  of  his 
last  years  of  misery,  of  fluctuating  resolves,  and  at  last 
of  his  strenuous  studies.  In  a  little  while  he  perceived 
he  had  it  all  again;  dim  perhaps,  hke  metal  long  laid 
aside,  but  in  no  way  defective  or  injured,  capable  of 
re-polishing.  And  the  hue  of  it  was  a  deepening  mis- 
ery. Was  it  worth  re-polishing?  By  a  miracle  he  had 
been  lifted  out  of  a  life  that  had  become  intoler- 
able.    .     .     . 

He  reverted  to  his  present  condition.  He  wrestled 
with  the  facts  in  vain.  It  became  an  inextricable  tan- 
gle. He  saw  the  sky  through  the  ventilator  pink  with 
dawn.  An  old  persuasion  came  out  of  the  dark  re- 
cesses of  his  memory.  "  I  must  sleep,"  he  said.  It 
appeared  as  a  delightful  relief  from  this  mental  dis- 
tress and  from  the  growing  pain  and  heaviness  of  his 
limbs.  He  went  to  the  strange  little  bed,  lay  down  and 
was  presently  asleep.     .     .     . 

70 


IN  THE  SILENT  ROOMS 

He  was  destined  to  become  very  familiar  indeed 
with  these  apartments  before  he  left  them,  for  he 
remained  imprisoned  for  three  days.  During  that  time 
no  one,  except  Howard,  entered  his  prison.  The  mar- 
vel of  his  fate  mingled  with  and  in  some  way  mini- 
mised the  marvel  of  his  survival.  He  had  awakened 
to  mankind  it  seemed  only  to  be  snatched  away  into 
this  unaccountable  solitude.  Howard  came  regularly 
with  subtly  sustaining  and  nutritive  fluids,  and  light 
and  pleasant  foods,  quite  strange  to  Graham.  He 
always  closed  the  door  carefully  as  he  entered.  On 
matters  of  detail  he  was  increasingly  obliging,  but  the 
bearing  of  Graham  on  the  great  issues  that  were  evi- 
dently being  contested  so  closely  beyond  the  sound- 
proof walls  that  enclosed  him,  he  would  not  elucidate. 
He  evaded,  as  politely  as  possible,  every  question  on 
the  position  of  afifairs  in  the  outer  world. 

And  in  those  three  days  Graham's  incessant 
thoughts  went  far  and  wide.  All  that  he  had  seen, 
all  this  elaborate  contrivance  to  prevent  him  seeing, 
worked  together  in  his  mind.  Almost  every  possible 
interpretation  of  his  position  he  debated  —  even  as  it 
chanced,  the  right  interpretation.  Things  that  pre- 
sently happened  to  him,  came  to  him  at  last  credible, 
by  virtue  of  this  seclusion.  When  at  length  the 
moment  of  his  release  arrived,  it  found  him  pre- 
pared.    .     .     . 

Howard's  bearing  went  far  to  deepen  Graham's 
impression  of  his  own  strange  importance;  the  door 
between  its  opening  and  closing  seemed  to  admit  with 
him  a  breath  of  momentous  happening.  His  en- 
quiries became  more  definite  and  searching.    Howard 

71 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

retreated  through  protests  and  difficulties.  The  awak- 
ening was  unforeseen,  he  repeated;  it  happened  to 
have  fallen  in  with  the  trend  of  a  social  convulsion. 
"  To  explain  it  I  must  tell  you  the  history  of  a  gross 
and  a  half  of  years,"  protested  Howard. 

"  The  thing  is  this,"  '  said  Graham.  "  You  are 
afraid  of  something  I  shall  do.  In  some  way  I  am 
arbitrator —  I  might  be  arbitrator." 

"  It  is  not  that.  But  you  have  —  I  may  tell  you 
this  much  —  the  automatic  increase  of  your  property 
puts  great  possibilities  of  interference  in  your  hands. 
And  in  certain  other  ways  you  have  influence,  with 
your  eighteenth  century  notions." 

"  Nineteenth  century,"  corrected  Graham. 

"  With  your  old  world  notions,  anyhow,  ignorant 
as  you  are  of  every  feature  of  our  State." 

"Am  I  a  fool?" 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  Do  I  seem  to  be  the  sort  of  man  who  would  act 
rashly?" 

"  You  were  never  expected  to  act  at  all.  No  one 
counted  on  your  awakening.  No  one  dreamt  you 
would  ever  awake.  The  Council  had  surrounded  you 
with  antiseptic  conditions.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we 
thought  that  you  were  dead  —  a  mere  arrest  of  decay. 
And  —  but  it  is  too  complex.  We  dare  not  suddenly 
—  while  you  are  still  half  awake." 

"  It  won't  do,"  said  Graham.  "  Suppose  it  is  as 
you  say  —  why  am  I  not  being  crammed  night  and 
day  with  facts  and  warnings  and  all  the  wisdom  of  the 
time  to  fit  me  for  my  responsibilities?    Am  I  any 

72 


IN  THE  SILENT  ROOMS 

wiser  now  than  two  days  ago,  if  it  is  two  days,  when  I 
awoke? " 

Howard  pulled  his  lip. 

"  I  am  beginning-  to  feel  —  every  hour  I  feel  more 
clearly  —  a  sense  of  complex  concealment  of  which 
you  are  the  salient  point.  Is  this  Council,  or  com- 
mittee, or  whatever  they  are,  cooking  the  accounts  of 
my  estate?     Is  that  it?  " 

"  That  note  of  suspicion  — "  said  Howard. 

"  Ugh !  "  said  Graham.  "  Now,  mark  my  words,  it 
will  be  ill  for  those  who  have  put  me  here.  It  will  be 
ill.  I  am  alive.  Make  no  doubt  of  it,  I  am  alive. 
Every  day  my  pulse  is  stronger  and  my  mind  clearer 
and  more  vigorous.  No  more  quiescence.  I  am  a 
man  come  back  to  life.     And  I  want  to  live  — " 

"  Live! " 

Howard's  face  lit  with  an  idea.  He  came  towards 
Graham  and  spoke  in  an  easy  confidential  tone. 

"  The  Council  secludes  you  here  for  your  good. 
You  are  restless.  Naturally  —  an  energetic  man! 
You  find  it  dull  here.  But  we  are  anxious  that  every- 
thing you  may  desire  —  every  desire  —  every  sort  of 
desire  .  .  .  There  may  be  something.  Is  there 
any  sort  of  company?  " 

He  paused  meaningly. 

"  Yes,"  said  Graham  thoughtfully.     "  There  is." 

"Ah!     Now!    We  have  treated  you  neglectfully." 

"  The  crowds  in  yonder  streets  of  yours." 

"  That,"  said  Howard,  "  I  am  afraid  — .     But  — " 

Graham  began  pacing  the  room.  Howard  stood 
near  the  door  watching  him.  The  implication  of  How- 
ard's suggestion  was  only  half  evident  to  Graham. 

73 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Company?  Suppose  he  were  to  accept  the  proposal, 
demand  some  sort  of  company?  Would  there  be  any 
possibilities  of  gathering  from  the  conversation  of  this 
additional  person  some  vague  inkling  of  the  struggle 
that  had  broken  out  so  vividly  at  his  waking  moment? 
He  meditated  again,  and  the  suggestion  took  colour. 
He  turned  on  Howard  abruptly. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  company?  " 

Howard  raised  his  eyes  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  Human  beings,"  he  said,  with  a  curious  smile  on  his 
heavy  face. 

"  Our  social  ideas,"  he  said,  "  have  a  certain  in- 
creased liberality,  perhaps,  in  comparison  with  your 
times.  If  a  man  wishes  to  relieve  such  a  tedium  as 
this  —  by  feminine  society,  for  instance.  We  think  it 
no  scandal.  We  have  cleared  our  minds  of  formulae. 
There  is  in  our  city  a  class,  a  necessary  class,  no  longer 
despised  —  discreet  — " 

Graham  stopped  dead. 

"  It  would  pass  the  time,"  said  Howard.  "  It  is  a 
thing  I  should  perhaps  have  thought  of  before,  but, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  so  much  is  happening  — " 

He  indicated  the  exterior  world. 

Graham  hesitated.  For  a  moment  the  figure  of  a 
possible  woman  that  his  imagination  suddenly  created 
dominated  his  mind  with  an  intense  attraction.  Then 
he  flashed  into  anger. 

"No!  "he  shouted. 

He  began  striding  rapidly  up  and  down  the  room. 
"  Everything  you  say,  everything  you  do,  convinces 
me  —  of  some  great  issue  in  which  I  am  concerned. 
I  do  not  want  to  pass  the  time,  as  you  call  it.     Yes,  I 

74 


IN  THE  SILENT  ROOMS 

know.  Desire  and  indulgence  are  life  in  a  sense  — 
and  Death!  Extinction!  In  my  life  before  I  slept 
I  had  worked  out  that  pitiful  question.  I  will  not 
begin  again.  There  is  a  city,  a  multitude  — .  And 
meanwhile  I  am  here  like  a  rabbit  in  a  bag." 

His  rage  surged  high.  He  choked  for  a  moment 
and  began  to  wave  his  clenched  fists.  He  gave  way 
to  an  anger  fit,  he  swore  archaic  curses.  His  gestures 
had  the  quality  of  physical  threats. 

"  I  do  not  know  who  your  party  may  be.  I  am  in 
the  dark,  and  you  keep  me  in  the  dark.  But  I  know 
this,  that  I  am  secluded  here  for  no  good  purpose. 
For  no  good  purpose.  I  warn  you,  I  warn  you  of  the 
consequences.     Once  I  come  at  my  power  — " 

He  realised  that  to  threaten  thus  might  be  a  danger 
to  himself.  He  stopped.  Howard  stood  regarding 
him  with  a  curious  expression. 

"  I  take  it  this  is  a  message  to  the  Council,"  said 
Howard. 

Graham  had  a  momentary  impulse  to  leap  upon  the 
man,  fell  or  stun  him.  It  must  have  shown  upon  his 
face;  at  any  rate  Howard's  movement  was  quick.  In 
a  second  the  noiseless  door  had  closed  again,  and  the 
man  from  the  nineteenth  century  was  alone. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  rigid,  with  clenched  hands 
half  raised.  Then  he  flung  them  down.  "  What  a  fool 
I  have  been!"  he  said, and  gave  way  to  his  anger  again, 
stamping  about  the  room  and  shouting  curses.  .  .  . 
For  a  long  time  he  kept  himself  in  a  sort  of  frenzy, 
raging  at  his  position,  at  his  own  folly,  at  the  knaves 
who  had  imprisoned  him.     He  did  this  because  he 

75 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

did  not  want  to  look  calmly  at  his  position.     He  clung 
to  his  anger  —  because  he  was  afraid  of  Fear. 

Presently  he  found  himself  reasoning  with  himself. 
This  imprisonment  was  unaccountable,  but  no  doubt 
the  legal  forms  —  new  legal  forms  —  of  the  time  per- 
mitted it.  It  must,  of  course,  be  legal.  These  people 
were  two  hundred  years  further  on  in  the  march  of 
civilisation  than  the  Victorian  generation.  It  was  not 
likely  they  would  be  less  —  humane.  Yet  they  had 
cleared  their  minds  of  formulae!  Was  humanity  a 
formula  as  well  as  chastity? 

His  imagination  set  to  work  to  suggest  things  that 
might  be  done  to  him.  The  attempts  of  his  reason  to 
dispose  of  these  suggestions,  though  for  the  most  part 
logically  valid,  were  quite  unavailing.  "  Why  should 
anything  be  done  to  me?  " 

"  If  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,"  he  found  him- 
self saying  at  last,  "  I  can  give  up  what  they  want. 
But  what  do  they  want?  And  why  don't  they  ask  me 
for  it  instead  of  cooping  me  up?  " 

He  returned  to  his  former  preoccupation  with  the 
Council's  possible  intentions.  He  began  to  reconsider 
the  details  of  Howard's  behaviour,  sinister  glances, 
inexplicable  hesitations.  Then,  for  a  time,  his  mind 
circled  about  the  idea  of  escaping  from  these  roorns; 
but  whither  could  he  escape  into  this  vast,  crowded 
world?  He  would  be  worse  ofif  than  a  Saxon  yeoman 
suddenly  dropped  into  nineteenth  century  London. 
And  besides,  how  could  anyone  escape  from  these 
rooms? 

"  How  can  it  benefit  anyone  if  harm  should  happen 
to  me?" 

76 


IN  THE  SILENT  ROOMS 

He  thought  of  the  tumult,  the  great  social  trouble 
of  which  he  was  so  unaccountably  the  axis.  A  text, 
irrelevant  enough  and  yet  curiously  insistent,  came 
floating  up  out  of  the  darkness  of  his  memory.  This 
also  a  Council  had  said: 

"  It  is  expedient  for  us  that  one  man  should  die  for 
the  people."      ^^U.  :  /^ 


77 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE    ROOF    SPACES 

As  the  fans  in  the  circular  aperture  of  the  inner  room 
rotated  and  permitted  glimpses  of  the  night,  dim 
sounds  drifted  in  thereby.  And  Graham,  standing 
underneath,  wrestling  darkly  with  the  unknown  pow- 
ers that  imprisoned  him,  and  which  he  had  now  delib- 
erately challenged,  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  a 
voice. 

He  peered  up  and  saw  in  the  intervals  of  the  rota- 
tion, dark  and  dim,  the  face  and  shoulders  of  a  man 
regarding  him.  Tlien  a  dark  hand  was  extended,  the 
swift  van  struck  it,  swung  round  and  beat  on  with  a 
little  brownish  patch  on  the  edge  of  its  thin  blade,  and 
something  began  to  fall  therefrom  upon  the  floor, 
dripping  silently. 

Graham  looked  down,  and  there  were  spots  of  blood 
at  his  feet.  He  looked  up  again  in  a  strange  excite- 
ment.   The  figure  had  gone. 

He  remained  motionless  —  his  every  sense  intent 
upon  the  flickering  patch  of  darkness,  for  outside  it 
was  high  night.  He  became  aware  of  some  faint, 
remote,  dark  specks  floating  lightly  through  the  outer 
air.  They  came  down  towards  him,  fitfully,  eddy- 
ingly,  and  passed  aside  out  of  the  uprush  from  the 
fan.  A  gleam  of  light  flickered,  the  specks  flashed 
white,  and  then  the  darkness  came  again.     Warmed 

18 


THE  ROOF  SPACES 

and  lit  as  he  was,  he  perceived  that  it  was  snowing 
within  a  few  feet  of  him. 

Graham  walked  across  the  room  and  came  back 
to  the  ventilator  again.  He  saw  the  head  of  a  man 
pass  near.  There  was  a  sound  of  whispering.  Then 
a  smart  blow  on  some  metallic  substance,  efifort, 
voices,  and  the  vans  stopped.  A  gust  of  snowflakes 
whirled  into  the  room,  and  vanished  before  they 
touched  the  floor.     "  Don't  be  afraid,"  said  a  voice. 

Graham  stood  under  the  van.  "  Who  are  you?  " 
he  whispered. 

For  a  moment  there  was  nothing  but  a  swaying  of  the 
fan,  and  then  the  head  of  a  man  was  thrust  cautiously 
into  the  opening.  His  face  appeared  nearly  inverted 
to  Graham;  his  dark  hair  was  wet  with  dissolving 
flakes  of  snow  upon  it.  His  arm  went  up  into  the 
darkness  holding  something  unseen.  He  had  a  youth- 
ful face  and  bright  eyes,  and  the  veins  of  his  forehead 
were  swollen.  He  seemed  to  be  exerting  himself  to 
maintain  his  position. 

For  several  seconds  neither  he  nor  Graham  spoke. 

"  You  were  the  Sleeper?  "  said  the  stranger  at  last. 

"  Yes,"  said  Graham.  "  What  do  you  want  with 
me?" 

"  I  come  from  Ostrog,  Sire." 

''  Ostrog?  " 

The  man  in  the  ventilator  twisted  his  head  round 
so  that  his  profile  was  towards  Graham,  He  appeared 
to  be  listening.  Suddenly  there  was  a  hasty  exclama- 
tion, and  the  intruder  sprang  back  just  in  time  to 
escape  the  sweep  of  the  released  fan.     And  when  Gra- 

79 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

ham  peered  up  there  was  nothing-  visible  but  the 
slowly  falling  snow. 

It  was  perhaps  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  anything 
returned  to  the  ventilator.  But  at  last  came  the  same 
metallic  interference  again;  the  fans  stopped  and  the 
face  reappeared.  Graham  had  remained  all  this  time 
in  the  same  place,  alert  and  tremulously  excited. 

"  Who  are  you?     What  do  you  want?  "  he  said. 

"  We  want  to  speak  to  you,  Sire,"  said  the  intruder. 
"  We  want  —  I  can't  hold  the  thing.  We  have  been 
trying  to  find  a  way  to  you  —  these  three  days." 

"  Is  it  rescue?  "  whispered  Graham.     "  Escape?  " 

"  Yes,  Sire.     If  you  will." 

"  You  are  my  party  —  the  party  of  the  Sleeper?  " 

''Yes,  Sire."' 

"  What  am  I  to  do?  "  said  Graham. 

There  was  a  struggle.  The  stranger's  arm  appeared, 
and  his  hand  was  bleeding.  His  knees  came  into  view 
over  the  edge  of  the  funnel.  "  Stand  away  from  me," 
he  said,  and  he  dropped  rather  heavily  on  his  hands 
and  one  shoulder  at  Graham's  feet.  The  released 
ventilator  whirled  noisily.  The  stranger  rolled  over, 
sprang  up  nimbly  and  stood  panting,  hand  to  a  bruised 
shoulder,  and  with  his  bright  eyes  on  Graham. 

"  You  are  indeed  the  Sleeper,"  he  said.  "  I  saw! 
you  asleep.  When  it  was  the  law  that  anyone  might 
see  you." 

"  I  am  the  man  who  was  in  the  trance,"  said  Gra- 
ham. "  They  have  imprisoned  me  here.  I  have  been 
here  since  I  awoke  —  at  least  three  days." 

The  intruder  seemed  about  to  speak,  heard  some- 
thing, glanced  swiftly  at  the  door,  and  suddenly  left 

80 


THE  ROOF  SPACES 

Graham  and  ran  towards  it,  shouting  quick  incoherent 
words.  A  bright  wedge  of  steel  flashed  in  his  hand, 
and  he  began  tap,  tap,  a  quick  succession  of  blows 
upon  the  hinges.  "Mind!"  cried  a  voice.  "Oh!" 
The  voice  came  from  above. 

Graham  glanced  up,  saw  the  soles  of  two  feet, 
ducked,  was  struck  on  the  shoulder  by  one  of  them, 
and  a  heavy  weight  bore  him  to  the  earth.  He  fell  on 
his  knees  and  forward,  and  the  weight  went  over  his 
head.  He  knelt  up  and  saw  a  second  man  from  above 
seated  before  him. 

"  I  did  not  see  you.  Sire,"  panted  the  man.  He  rose 
and  assisted  Graham  to  arise.  "  Are  you  hurt,  Sire?  " 
he  panted.  A  succession  of  heavy  blows  on  the  ven- 
tilator began,  something  fell  close  to  Graham's  face, 
and  a  shivering  edge  of  white  metal  danced,  fell  over, 
and  lay  flat  upon  the  floor. 

"  What  is  this?  "  cried  Graham,  confused  and  look- 
ing at  the  ventilator.  "  Who  are  you?  What  are  you 
going  to  do?     Remember,  I  understand  nothing." 

"  Stand  back,"  said  the  stranger,  and  drew  him 
from  under  the  ventilator  as  another  fragment  of  metal 
fell  heavily. 

"  We  want  you  to  come,  Sire,"  panted  the  new- 
comer, and  Graham  glancing  at  his  face  again,  saw 
a  new  cut  had  changed  from  white  to  red  on  his  fore- 
head, and  a  couple  of  little  trickles  of  blood  starting 
therefrom.    "  Your  people  call  for  you." 

"  Come  w^here?     My  people?  " 

"  To  the  hall  about  the  markets.  Your  life  is  in 
danger  here.  We  have  spies.  We  learned  but  just 
in  time.     The  Council  has  decided  —  this  very  day  — 

8i  y 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

either  to  drug  or  kill  you.  And  everything-  is  ready. 
The  people  are  drilled,  the  wind-vane  police,  the  engin- 
eers, and  half  the  way-gearers  are  with  us.  We  have 
the  halls  crowded  —  shouting.  The  whole  city  shouts 
against  the  Council.  We  have  arms."  He  wiped  the 
blood  with  his  hand.     "  Your  life  here  is  not  worth  — " 

"But  why  arms?" 

"  The  people  have  risen  tO'  protect  you.  Sire. 
What?  " 

He  turned  quickly  as  the  man  who  had  first  come 
down  made  a  hissing  with  his  teeth.  Graham  saw 
the  latter  start  back,  gesticulate  to  them  to  conceal 
themselves,  and  move  as  if  to  hide  behind  the  opening 
door. 

As  he  did  so  Howard  appeared,  a  little  tray  in  one 
hand  and  his  heavy  face  downcast.  He  started,  looked 
up,  the  door  slammed  behind  him,  the  tray  tilted  side- 
ways, and  the  steel  wedge  struck  him  behind  the  ear. 
He  went  down  like  a  felled  tree,  and  lay  as  he  fell 
athwart  the  floor  of  the  outer  room.  The  man  who 
had  struck  him  bent  hastily,  studied  his  face  for  a 
moment,  rose,  and  returned  to  his  work  at  the  door. 

"Your  poison!"  said  a  voice  in  Graham's  ear. 

Then  abruptly  they  were  in  darkness.  The  innum- 
erable cornice  lights  had  been  extinguished.  Gra- 
ham saw  the  aperture  of  the  ventilator  with  ghostly 
snow  whirling  above  it  and  dark  figures  moving  hast- 
ily. Three  knelt  on  the  van.  Some  dim  thing  —  a 
ladder  —  was  being  lowered  through  the  opening,  and 
a  hand  appeared  holding  a  fitful  yellow  light. 

He  had  a  moment  of  hesitation.  But  the  manner 
of  these  men,  their  swift  alacrity,  their  words,  marched 

82 


THE  ROOF  SPACES 

so  completely  with  his  own  fears  of  the  Council,  with 
his  idea  and  hope  of  a  rescue,  that  it  lasted  not  a 
moment.     And  his  people  awaited  him! 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  he  said,  "  I  trust.  Tell  me 
what  to  do." 

The  man  with  the  cut  brow  gripped  Graham's  arm. 
"  Clamber  up  the  ladder,"  he  whispered.  "  Quick. 
They  will  have  heard  — " 

Graham  felt  for  the  ladder  with  extended  hands,  put 
his  foot  on  the  lower  rung,  and,  turning  his  head,  saw 
over  the  shoulder  of  the  nearest  man,  in  the  yellow 
flicker  of  the  light,  the  first-comer  astride  over  How- 
ard and  still  working  at  the  door.  Graham  turned  to 
the  ladder  again,  and  was  thrust  by  his  conductor  and 
helped  up  by  those  above,  and  then  he  was  standing 
on  something  hard  and  cold  and  slippery  outside  the 
ventilating  funnel. 

He  shivered.  He  was  aware  of  a  great  difference 
in  the  temperature.  Half  a  dozen  men  stood  about 
him,  and  light  flakes  of  snow  touched  hands  and  face 
and  melted.  For  a  moment  it  was  dark,  then  for  a 
flash  a  ghastly  violet  white,  and  then  everything  was 
dark  again. 

He  saw  he  had  come  out  upon  the  roof  of  the  vast 
city  structure  which  had  replaced  the  miscellaneous 
houses,  streets  and  open  spaces  of  Victorian  London. 
The  place  upon  which  he  stood  was  level,  with  huge 
serpentine  cables  lying  athwart  it  in  every  direction. 
The  circular  wheels  of  a  number  of  windmills  loomed 
indistinct  and  gigantic  through  the  darkness  and  snow- 
fall, and  roared  with  a  varying  loudness  as  the  fitful 
wind  rose  and  fell.     Some  way  off  an  intermittent 

83 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

white  light  smote  up  from  below,  touched  the  snow 
eddies  with  a  transient  glitter,  and  made  an  evanescent 
spectre  in  the  night;  and  here  and  there,  low  down, 
some  vaguely  outlined  wind-driven  mechanism  flick- 
ered with  livid  sparks. 

All  this  he  appreciated  in  a  fragmentary  manner  as 
his  rescuers  stood  about  him.  Someone  threw  a  thick 
soft  cloak  of  fur-like  texture  about  him,  and  fastened 
it  by  buckled  straps  at  waist  and  shoulders.  Things 
were  said  briefly,  decisively.  Someone  thrust  him 
forward. 

Before  his  mind  was  yet  clear  a  dark  shape  gripped 
his  arm.  "  This  way,"  said  this  shape,  urging  him 
along,  and  pointed  Graham  across  the  flat  roof  in  the 
direction  of  a  dim  semicircular  haze  of  light.  Graham 
obeyed. 

"  Mind!  "  said  a  voice,  as  Graham  stumbled  against 
a  cable.  "  Between  them  and  not  across  them,"  said 
the  voice.     And,  "  We  must  hurry." 

"Where  are  the  people?"  said  Graham.  "The 
people  you  said  awaited  me?  " 

The  stranger  did  not  answer.  He  left  Graham's 
arm  as  the  path  grew  narrower,  and  led  the  way  with 
rapid  strides.  Graham  followed  blindly.  In  a  min- 
ute he  found  himself  running.  "  Are  the  others  com- 
ing? "  he  panted,  but  received  no  reply.  His  compan- 
ion glanced  back  and  ran  on.  They  came  to  a  sort 
of  pathway  of  open  metal-work,  transverse  to  the  direc- 
tion they  had  come,  and  they  turned  aside  to  follow 
this.  Graham  looked  back,  but  the  snowstorm  had 
hidden  the  others. 

"Come  on!"  said  his  guide.  Running  now,  they 
84 


THE  ROOF  SPACES 

drew  near  a  little  windmill  spinning  high  in  the  air. 
"  Stoop,"  said  Graham's  guide,  and  they  avoided  an 
endless  band  running  roaring  up  to  the  shaft  of  the 
vane.  "This  way!"  and  they  were  ankle  deep  in  a 
gutter  full  of  drifted  thawing  snow,  between  two  low 
walls  of  metal  that  presently  rose  waist  high.  "  I  will 
go  first,"  said  the  guide.  Graham  drew  his  cloak 
about  him  and  followed.  Then  suddenly  came  a  nar- 
row abyss  across  which  the  gutter  leapt  to  the  snowy 
darkness  of  the  further  side.  Graham  peeped  over  the 
side  once  and  the  gulf  was  black.  For  a  moment  he 
regretted  his  flight.  He  dared  not  look  again,  and  his 
brain  spun  as  he  waded  through  the  half  liquid  snow. 
Then  out  of  the  gutter  they  clambered  and  hurried 
across  a  wide  flat  space  damp  with  thawing  snow, 
and  for  half  its  extent  dimly  translucent  to  lights  that 
went  to  and  fro  underneath.  He  hesitated  at  this 
unstable  looking  substance,  but  his  guide  ran  on 
unheeding,  and  so  they  came  to  and  clambered  up 
slippery  steps  to  the  rim  of  a  great  dome  of  glass. 
Round  this  they  went.  Far  below  a  number  of  people 
seemed  to  be  dancing,  and  music  filtered  through  the 
dome.  .  .  .  Graham  fancied  he  heard  a  shouting 
through  the  snowstorm,  and  his  guide  hurried  him  on 
with  a  new  spurt  of  haste.  They  clambered  panting  to 
a  space  of  huge  windmills,  one  so  vast  that  only  the 
lower  edge  of  its  vans  came  rushing  into  sight  and 
rushed  up  again  and  was  lost  in  the  night  and  the 
snow.  They  hurried  for  a  time  through  the  colossal 
metallic  tracery  of  its  supports,  and  came  at  last  above 
a  place  of  moving  platforms  like  the  place  into  which 
Graham  had  looked  from  the  balcony.     They  crawled 

85 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

across  the  sloping  transparency  that  covered  this  street 
of  platforms,  crawling  on  hands  and  knees  because  of 
the  slipperiness  of  the  snowfall. 

For  the  most  part  the  glass  was  bedewed,  and  Gra- 
ham saw  only  hazy  suggestions  of  the  forms  below, 
but  near  the  pitch  of  the  transparent  roof  the  glass  was 
clear,  and  he  found  himself  looking  sheerly  down  upon 
it  all.  For  awhile,  in  spite  of  the  urgency  of  his 
guide,  he  gave  way  to  vertigo  and  lay  spread-eagled 
on  the  glass,  sick  and  paralysed.  Far  below,  mere 
stirring  specks  and  dots,  went  the  people  of  the  un- 
sleeping city  in  their  perpetual  daylight,  and  the  mov- 
ing platforms  ran  on  their  incessant  journey.  Mes- 
sengers and  men  on  unknown  businesses  shot  along 
the  drooping  cables  and  the  frail  bridges  were  crowded 
with  men.  It  was  like  peering  into  a  gigantic  glass 
hive,  and  it  lay  vertically  below  him  with  only  a  tough 
glass  of  unknown  thickness  to  save  him  from  a  fall. 
The  street  showed  warm  and  lit,  and  Graham  was  wet 
now  to  the  skin  with  thawing  snow,  and  his  feet  were 
numbed  with  cold.  For  a  space  he  could  not  move. 
"  Come  on !  "  cried  his  guide,  with  terror  in  his  voice. 
"Come  on!" 

Graham  reached  the  pitch  of  the  roof  by  an  eflfort. 

Over  the  ridge,  following  his  guide's  example,  he 
turned  about  and  slid  backward  down  the  opposite 
slope  very  swiftly,  amid  a  little  avalanche  of  snow. 
While  he  was  sliding  he  thought  of  what  would  happen 
if  some  broken  gap  should  come  in  his  way.  At  the 
edge  he  stumbled  to  his  feet  ankle  deep  in  slush, 
thanking  heaven  for  an  opaque  footing  again.     His 

86 


THE  ROOF  SPACES 

guide  was  already  clambering  up  a  metal  screen  to  a 
level  expanse. 

Through  the  spare  snowflakes  above  this  loomed 
another  line  of  vast  windmills,  and  then  suddenly  the 
amorphous  tumult  of  the  rotating  wheels  was  pierced 
with  a  deafening  sound.  It  was  a  mechanical  shrilling 
of  extraordinary  intensity  that  seemed  to  come  simul- 
taneously from  every  point  of  the  compass. 

"They  have  missed  us  already!"  cried  Graham's 
guide  in  an  accent  of  terror,  and  suddenly,  with  a 
blinding  flash,  the  night  became  day. 

Above  the  driving  snow,  from  the  summits  of  the 
wind-wheels,  appeared  vast  masts  carrying  globes  of 
livid  light.  They  receded  in  illimitable  vistas  in  every 
direction.  As  far  as  his  eye  could  penetrate  the  snow- 
fall they  glared. 

"  Get  on  this,"  cried  Graham's  conductor,  and 
thrust  him  forward  to  a  long  grating  of  snow- 
less  metal  that  ran  like  a  b^nd  between  two  slightly 
sloping  expanses  of  snow.  It  felt  warm  to  Graham's 
benumbed  feet,  and  a  faint  eddy  of  steam  rose  from  it. 

"  Come  on! "  shouted  his  guide  ten  yards  off,  and, 
without  waiting,  ran  swiftly  through  the  incandescent 
glare  towards  the  iron  supports  of  the  next  range  of 
wind-wheels.  Graham,  recovering  from  his  astonish- 
ment, followed  as  fast,  convinced  of  his  imminent 
capture.     .     .     . 

In  a  score  of  seconds  they  were  within  a  tracery  of 
glare  and  black  shadows  shot  with  moving  bars 
beneath  the  monstrous  wheels.  Graham's  conductor 
ran  on  for  some  time,  and  suddenly  darted  sideways 
and  vanished  into  a  black  shadow  in  the  corner  of  the 

S7 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

foot  of  a  huge  support.     In  another  moment  Graham 
was  beside  him. 

They  cowered  panting  and  stared  out. 

The  scene  upon  which  Graham  looked  was  very 
wild  and  strange.  The  snow  had  now  almost  ceased; 
only  a  belated  flake  passed  now  and  again  across  the 
picture.  But  the  broad  stretch  of  level  before  them 
was  a  ghastly  white,  broken  only  by  gigantic  masses 
and  moving  shapes  and  lengthy  strips  of  impenetrable 
darkness,  vast  ungainly  Titans  of  shadow.  All  about 
them,  huge  metallic  structures,  iron  girders,  inhu- 
manly vast  as  it  seemed  to  him,  interlaced,  and  the 
edges  of  wind-wheels,  scarcely  moving  in  the  lull, 
passed  in  great  shining  curves  steeper  and  steeper  up 
into  a  luminous  haze.  Wherever  the  snow-spangled 
light  struck  down,  beams  and  girders,  and  incessant 
bands  running  with  a  halting,  indomitable  resolution, 
passed  upward  and  downward  into  the  black.  And 
with  all  that  mighty  activity,  with  an  omnipresent 
sense  of  motive  and  design,  this  snow-clad  desolation 
of  mechanism  seemed  void  of  all  human  presence  save 
themselves,  seemed  as  trackless  and  deserted  and 
unfrequented  by  men  as  some  inaccessible  Alpine 
snowfield. 

"  They  will  be  chasing  us,"  cried  the  leader.  "  We 
are  scarcely  halfway  there  yet.  Cold  as  it  is  we  must 
hide  here  for  a  space  —  at  least  until  it  snows  more 
thickly  again." 

His  teeth  chattered  in  his  head. 

"Where  are  the  markets?"  asked  Graham  staring 
out.     "  Where  are  all  the  people?  " 

The  other  made  no  answer. 

88 


THE  ROOF  SPACES 

"Look!"  whispered  Graham,  crouched  close,  and 
became  very  still. 

The  snow  had  suddenly  become  thick  again,  and 
sliding  with  the  whirling  eddies  out  of  the  black  pit 
of  the  sky  came  something,  vague  and  large  and  very 
swift.  It  came  down  in  a  steep  curve  and  swept  round, 
wide  wings  extended  and  a  trail  of  white  condensing 
steam  behind  it,  rose  with  an  easy  swiftness  and  went 
gliding  up  the  air,  swept  horizontally  forward  in  a 
wide  curve,  and  vanished  again  in  the  steaming  specks 
of  snow.  And,  through  the  ribs  of  its  body,  Graham 
saw  two  little  men,  very  minute  and  active,  searching 
the  snowy  areas  about  him,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  with 
field  glasses.  For  a  second  they  were  clear,  then  hazy 
through  a  thick  whirl  of  snow,  then  small  and  distant, 
and  in  a  minute  they  were  gone. 

"Noiv!"  cried  his  companion.     "Come!" 

He  pulled  Graham's  sleeve,  and  incontinently  the 
two  were  running  headlong  down  the  arcade  of  iron- 
work beneath  the  wind-wheels.  Graham,  running 
blindly,  collided  with  his  leader,  who  had  turned  back 
on  him  suddenly.  He  found  himself  within  a  dozen 
yards  of  a  black  chasm.  It  extended  as  far  as  he 
could  see  right  jind  left.  It  seemed  to  cut  off  their 
progress  in  either  direction. 

"  Do  as  I  do,"  whispered  his  guide.  He  lay  down 
and  crawled  to  the  edge,  thrust  his  head  over  and 
twisted  until  one  leg  hung.  He  seemed  to  feel  for 
something  with  his  foot,  found  it,  and  went  sliding 
over  the  edge  into  the  gulf.  His  head  reappeared. 
"  It  is  a  ledge,"  he  whispered.  "  In  the  dark  all  the 
way  along.     Do  as  I  did." 

89 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Graham  hesitated,  went  down  upon  all  fours, 
crawled  to  the  edge,  and  peered  into  a  velvety  black- 
ness. For  a  sickly  moment  he  had  courage  neither 
to  go  on  nor  retreat,  then  he  sat  and  hung  his  leg 
down,  felt  his  guide's  hands  pulling  at  him,  had  a 
horrible  sensation  of  sliding  over  the  edge  into  the 
unfathomable,  splashed,  and  felt  himself  in  a  slushy 
gutter,  impenetrably  dark. 

"  This  way,"  whispered  the  voice,  and  he  began 
crawling  along  the  gutter  through  the  trickling  thaw, 
pressing  himself  against  the  wall.  They  continued 
along  it  for  some  minutes.  He  seemed  to  pass  through 
a  hundred  stages  of  misery,  to  pass  minute  after  minute 
through  a  hundred  degrees  of  cold,  damp,  and  exhaus- 
tion. In  a  little  while  he  ceased  to  feel  his  hands  and 
feet. 

The  gutter  sloped  downwards.  He  observed  that 
they  were  now  many  feet  below  the  edge  of  the  build- 
ings. Rows  of  spectral  white  shapes  like  the  ghosts 
of  blind-drawn  windows  rose  above  them.  They  came 
to  the  end  of  a  cable  fastened  above  one  of  these  white 
windows,  dimly  visible  and  dropping  into  impenetrable 
shadows.  Suddenly  his  hand  came  against  his  guide's. 
"  Still! "  whispered  the  latter  very  softly. 

He  looked  up  with  a  start  and  saw  the  huge  wings 
of  the  flying  machine  gliding  slowly  and  noiselessly 
overhead  athwart  the  broad  band  of  snow-flecked  grey- 
blue  sky.     In  a  moment  it  was  hidden  again. 

"  Keep  still;  they  were  just  turning." 

For  awhile  both  were  motionless,  then  Graham's 
companion  stood  up,  and  reaching  towards  the  fasten- 
ings of  the  cable  fumbled  with  some  indistinct  tackle. 

90 


THE  ROOF  SPACES 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Graham. 

The  only  answer  was  a  faint  cry.  The  man  crouched 
motionless.  Graham  peered  and  saw  his  face  dimly. 
He  was  staring  down  the  long  ribbon  of  sky,  and 
Graham,  following  his  eyes,  saw  the  flying  machine 
small  and  faint  and  remote.  Then  he  saw  that  the 
wings  spread  on  either  side,  that  it  headed  towards 
them,  that  every  moment  it  grew  larger.  It  was  fol- 
lowing the  edge  of  the  chasm  towards  them. 

The  man's  movements  became  convulsive.  He 
thrust  two  cross  bars  into  Graham's  hand.  Graham 
could  not  see  them,  he  ascertained  their  form  by  feel- 
ing. They  were  slung  by  thin  cords  to  the  cable.  On 
the  cord  were  hand  grips  of  some  soft  elastic  sub- 
stance. "  Put  the  cross  between  your  legs,"  whis- 
pered the  guide  hysterically,  "  and  grip  the  holdfasts. 
Grip  tightly,  grip!  " 

Graham  did  as  he  was  told. 

"  Jump,"  said  the  voice.  "  In  heaven's  name, 
jump !  " 

For  one  momentous  second  Graham  could  not 
speak.  He  was  glad  afterwards  that  darkness  hid  his 
face.  He  said  nothing.  He  began  to  tremble  vio- 
lently. He  looked  sideways  at  the  swift  shadow  that 
swallowed  up  the  sky  as  it  rushed  upon  him. 

"  Jump!  Jump  —  in  God's  name!  Or  they  will  have 
us,"  cried  Graham's  guide,  and  in  the  violence  of  his 
passion  thrust  him  forward, 

Graham  tottered  convulsively,  gave  a  sobbing  cry, 
a  cry  in  spite  of  himself,  and  then,  as  the  flying 
machine  swept  over  them,  fell  forward  into  the  pit  of 
that  darkness,  seated  on  the  cross  wood  and  holding 

91 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

the  ropes  with  the  clutch  of  death.  Something 
cracked,  something  rapped  smartly  against  a  wall. 
He  heard  the  pulley  of  the  cradle  hum  on  its  rope. 
He  heard  the  aeronauts  shout.  He  felt  a  pair  of  knees 
digging  into  his  back.  .  .  .  He  was  sweeping 
headlong  through  the  air,  falling  through  the  air.  All 
his  strength  was  in  his  hands.  He  would  have 
screamed  but  he  had  no  breath. 

He  shot  into  a  blinding  light  that  made  him  grip 
the  tighter.  He  recognised  the  great  passage  with 
the  running  ways,  the  hanging  lights  and  interlacing 
girders.  They  rushed  upward  and  by  him.  He  had 
a  momentary  impression  of  a  great  circular  aperture 
yawning  to  swallow  him  up. 

He  was  in  the  dark  again,  falling,  falling,  gripping 
with  aching  hands,  and  behold!  a  clap  of  sound,  a 
burst  of  light,  and  he  was  in  a  brightly  lit  hall  with  a 
roaring  multitude  of  people  beneath  his  feet.  The 
people!  His  people!  A  proscenium,  a  stage  rushed 
up  towards  him,  and  his  cable  swept  down  to  a  circu- 
lar aperture  to  the  right  of  this.  He  felt  he  was  trav- 
elling slower,  and  suddenly  very  much  slower.  He 
distinguished  shouts  of  "  Saved!  The  Master.  He  is 
safe !  "  The  stage  rushed  up  towards  him  with  rap- 
idly diminishing  swiftness.     Then  — . 

He  heard  the  man  clinging  behind  him  shout  as  if 
suddenly  terrified,  and  this  shout  was  echoed  by  a 
shout  from  below.  He  felt  that  he  was  no  longer 
gliding  along  the  cable  but  falling  with  it.  There  was 
a  tumult  of  yells,  screams  and  cries.  He  felt  some- 
thing soft  against  his  extended  hand,  and  the  impact 
of  a  broken  fall  quivering  through  his  arm.     .     .     . 

92 


THE  ROOF  SPACES 

He  wanted  to  be  still  and  the  people  were  lifting 
him.  He  believed  afterwards  he  was  carried  to  the 
platform  and  given  some  drink,  but  he  was  never  sure. 
He  did  not  notice  what  became  of  his  guide.  When 
his  mind  was  clear  again  he  was  on  his  feet;  eager 
hands  were  assisting  him  to  stand.  He  was  in  a 
big  alcove,  occupying  the  position  that  in  his  previous 
experience  had  been  devoted  to  the  lower  boxes.  If 
this  was  indeed  a  theatre. 

A  mighty  tumult  was  in  his  ears,  a  thunderous  roar, 
the  shouting  of  a  countless  multitude.  "  It  is  the 
Sleeper!     The  Sleeper  is  with  us!  " 

"The  Sleeper  is  with  us!  The  Master  —  the 
Owner!     The  Master  is  with  us.     He  is  safe." 

Graham  had  a  surging  vision  of  a  great  hall  crowded 
with  people.  He  saw  no  individuals,  he  was  conscious 
of  a  froth  of  pink  faces,  of  waving  arms  and  garments, 
he  felt  the  occult  influence  of  a  vast  crowd  pouring 
over  him,  buoying  him  up.  There  were  balconies, 
galleries,  great  archways  giving  remoter  perspectives, 
and  everywhere  people,  a  vast  arena  of  people,  densely 
packed  and  cheering.  Across  the  nearer  space  lay 
the  collapsed  cable  like  a  huge  snake.  It  had  been 
cut  by  the  men  of  the  flying  machine  at  its  upper  end, 
and  had  crumpled  down  into  the  hall.  Men  seemed 
to  be  hauling  this  out  of  the  way.  But  the  whole 
efifect  was  vague,  the  very  buildings  throbbed  and 
leapt  with  the  roar  of  the  voices. 

He  stood  unsteadily  and  looked  at  those  about  him. 
Someone  supported  him  by  one  arm.  "  Let  me  go 
into  a  little  room,"  he  said,  weeping;  "a  little  room," 
and  could  say  no  more.     A  man  in  black  stepped  for- 

93 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

ward,  took  his  disengag-ed  arm.  He  was  aware  of 
officious  men  opening  a  door  before  him.  Someone 
guided  him  to  a  seat.  He  staggered.  He  sat  down 
heavily  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands;  he  was 
trembUng  violently,  his  nervous  control  was  at  an  end. 
He  was  relieved  of  his  cloak,  he  could  not  remember 
how;  his  purple  hose  he  saw  were  black  with  wet. 
People  were  running  about  him,  things  were  happen- 
ing, but  for  some  time  he  gave  no  heed  to  them. 

He  had  escaped.  A  myriad  of  cries  told  him  that. 
He  was  safe.  These  were  the  people  who  were  on  his 
side.  For  a  space  he  sobbed  for  breath,  and  then  he 
sat  still  with  his  face  covered.  The  air  was  full  of 
the  shouting  of  innumerable  men. 


94 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    PEOPLE    MARCH 

He  became  aware  of  someone  urging  a  glass  of  clear 
fluid  upon  his  attention,  looked  up  and  discovered  this 
was  a  dark  young  man  in  a  yellow  garment.  He  took 
the  dose  forthwith,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  glowing. 
A  tall  man  in  a  black  robe  stood  by  his  shoulder,  and 
pointed  to  the  half  open  door  into  the  hall.  This  man 
was  shouting  close  to  his  ear  and  yet  what  was  said 
was  indistinct  because  of  the  tremendous  uproar  from 
the  great  theatre.  Behind  the  man  was  a  girl  in  a 
silvery  grey  robe,  whom  Graham,  even  in  this  confu- 
sion, perceived  to  be  beautiful.  Her  dark  eyes,  full 
of  wonder  and  curiosity,  were  fixed  on  him,  her  lips 
trembled  apart.  A  partially  opened  door  gave  a 
glimpse  of  the  crowded  hall,  and  admitted  a  vast 
uneven  tumult,  a  hammering,  clapping  and  shouting 
that  died  away  and  began  again,  and  rose  to  a  thunder- 
ous pitch,  and  so  continued  intermittently  all  the  time 
that  Graham  remained  in  the  little  room.  He  watched 
the  lips  of  the  man  in  black  and  gathered  that  he  was 
making  some  clumsy  explanation. 

He  stared  stupidly  for  some  moments  at  these  things 
and  then  stood  up  abruptly;  he  grasped  the  arm  of  this 
shouting  person. 

"  Tell  me !  "  he  cried.  "  Who  am  I  ?  Who  am  I  ?  " 
95 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

The  others  came  nearer  to  hear  his  words.  "  Who 
am  I?  "     His  eyes  searched  their  faces. 

"  They  have  told  him  nothing!  "  cried  the  girl. 

"Tell  me,  tell  me!  "  cried  Graham, 

"  You  are  the  Master  of  the  Earth.  You  are  owner 
of  half  the  world." 

He  did  not  beheve  he  heard  aright.  He  resisted 
the  persuasion.  He  pretended  not  to  understand,  not 
to  hear.  He  lifted  his  voice  again.  "  I  have  been 
awake  three  days  —  a  prisoner  three  days.  I  judge 
there  is  some  struggle  between  a  number  of  people  in 
this  city  —  it  is  London?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  younger  man. 

"  And  those  who  meet  in  the  great  hall  with  the 
white  Atlas?  How  does  it  concern  me?  In  some 
way  it  has  to  do  with  me.  JVhy,  I  don't  know. 
Drugs?  It  seems  to  me  that  while  I  have  slept  the 
world  has  gone  mad.     I  have  gone  mad." 

"  Who  are  those  Councillors  under  the  Atlas?  Why 
should  they  try  to  drug  me?  " 

"  To  keep  you  insensible,"  said  the  man  in  yellow. 
"  To  prevent  your  interference." 

"  But  ivhyr  " 

"  Because  you  are  the  Atlas,  Sire,"  said  the  man  in 
yellow.  "  The  world  is  on  your  shoulders.  They 
rule  it  in  your  name." 

The  sounds  from  the  hall  had  died  into  a  silence 
threaded  by  one  monotonous  voice.  Now  suddenly, 
trampling  on  these  last  words,  came  a  deafening 
tumult,  a  roaring  and  thundering,  cheer  crowded  on 
cheer,  voices  hoarse  and  shrill,  beating,  overlapping, 

96 


THE  PEOPLE  MARCH 

and  while  it  lasted  the  people  in  the  little  room  could 
not  hear  each  other  shout. 

Graham  stood,  his  intelligence  clinging  helplessly 
to  the  thing  he  had  just  heard.  "  The  Council,"  he 
repeated  blankly,  and  then  snatched  at  a  name  that 
had  struck  him.     "  But  who  is  Ostrog?  "  he  said. 

"  He  is  the  organiser  —  the  organiser  of  the  revolt. 
Our  Leader  —  in  your  name." 

"In  my  name? —  And  you?  Why  is  he  not 
here?" 

"  He  —  has  deputed  us.  I  am  his  brother  —  his 
half-brother,  Lincoln.  He  wants  you  to  show  yourself 
to  these  people  and  then  come  on  to  him.  That  is 
why  he  has  sent.  He  is  at  the  wind- vane  offices  direct- 
ing.    The  people  are  marching." 

"  In  your  name,"  shouted  the  younger  man.  "  They 
have  ruled,  crushed,  tyrannised.     At  last  even  — " 

"In  my  name!     My  name!     Master?" 

The  younger  man  suddenly  became  audible  in  a 
pause  of  the  outer  thunder,  indignant  and  vociferous, 
a  high  penetrating  voice  under  his  red  aquiline  nose 
and  bushy  moustache.  "  No  one  expected  you  to 
wake.  No  one  expected  you  to  wake.  They  were 
cunning.  Damned  tyrants!  But  they  were  taken  by 
surprise.  They  did  not  know  whether  to  drug  you, 
hypnotise  you,  kill  you." 

Again  the  hall  dominated  everything. 

"  Ostrog  is  at  the  wind-vane  offices  ready  — .  Even 
now  there  is  a  rumour  of  fighting  beginning." 

The  man  who  had  called  himself  Lincoln  came  close 
to  him.  "  Ostrog  has  it  planned.  Trust  him.  We 
have  our  organisations  ready.     We    shall    seize    the 

97  G 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

flying  stages  — .     Even  now  he  may  be  doing  that 
Then—" 

**  This  public  theatre,"  bawled  the  man  in  yellow, 
"  is  only  a  contingent.  We  have  five  myriads  of 
drilled  men — " 

"  We  have  arms,"  cried  Lincoln.  "  We  have  plans. 
A  leader.  Their  police  have  gone  from  the  streets 
and  are  massed  in  the — "  (inaudible).  "  It  is  now  or 
never.  The  Council  is  rocking  —  They  cannot  trust 
even  their  drilled  men  — " 

"  Hear  the  people  calling  to  you!  " 

Graham's  mind  was  like  a  night  of  moon  and  swift 
clouds,  now  dark  and  hopeless,  now  clear  and  ghastly. 
He  was  Master  of  the  Earth,  he  was  a  man  sodden 
with  thawing  snow.  Of  all  his  fluctuating  impressions 
the  dominant  ones  presented  an  antagonism;  on  the 
one  hand  was  the  White  Council,  powerful,  disciplined, 
few,  the  White  Council  from  which  he  had  just 
escaped;  and  on  the  other,  monstrous  crowds,  packed 
masses  of  indistinguishable  people  clamouring  his 
name,  hailing  him  Master.  The  other  side  had 
imprisoned  him,  debated  his  death.  These  shouting 
thousands  beyond  the  little  doorway  had  rescued  him. 
But  why  these  things  should  be  so  he  could  not 
understand. 

The  door  opened,  Lincoln's  voice  was  swept  away 
and  drowned,  and  a  rush  of  people  followed  on  the 
heels  of  the  tumult.  These  intruders  came  towards 
him  and  Lincoln  gesticulating.  The  voices  without 
explained  their  soundless  lips.  "  Show  us  the  Sleeper, 
show  us  the  Sleeper! "  was  the  burden  of  the  uproar. 
Men  were  bawling  for  "  Order!     Silence!  " 

98 


THE  PEOPLE  MARCH 

Graham  glanced  towards  the  open  doorway,  and 
saw  a  tall,  oblong  picture  of  the  hall  beyond,  a  wav- 
ing, incessant  confusion  of  crowded,  shouting  faces, 
men  and  women  together,  waving  pale  blue  garments, 
extended  hands.  Many  were  standing,  one  man  in 
rags  of  dark  brown,  a  gaunt  figure,  stood  on  the  seat 
and  waved  a  black  cloth.  He  met  the  wonder  and 
expectation  of  the  girl's  eyes.  What  did  these  people 
expect  from  him.  He  was  dimly  aware  that  the 
tumult  outside  had  changed  its  character,  was  in  some 
way  beating,  marching.  His  own  mind,  too,  changed. 
For  a  space  he  did  not  recognise  the  influence  that 
was  transforming  him.  But  a  moment  that  was  near 
to  panic  passed.  He  tried  to  make  audible  inquiries 
of  what  was  required  of  him. 

Lincoln  was  shouting  in  his  ear,  but  Graham  was 
deafened  to  that.  All  the  others  save  the  woman  ges- 
ticulated towards  the  hall.  He  perceived  what  had 
happened  to  the  uproar.  The  whole  mass  of  people 
was  chanting  together.  It  was  not  simply  a  song,  the 
voices  were  gathered  together  and  upborne  by  a  tor- 
rent of  instrumental  music,  music  like  the  music  of 
an  organ,  a  woven  texture  of  sounds,  full  of  trumpets, 
full  of  flaunting  banners,  full  of  the  march  and 
pageantry  of  opening  war.  And  the  feet  of  the  people 
were  beating  time  —  tramp,  tramp. 

He  was  urged  towards  the  door.  He  obeyed 
mechanically.  The  strength  of  that  chant  took  hold 
of  him,  stirred  him,  emboldened  him.  The  hall  opened 
to  him,  a  vast  welter  of  fluttering  colour  swaying  to 
the  music. 

99 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  Wave  your  arm  to  them,"  said  Lincoln.  "  Wave 
your  arm  to  them." 

"  This,"  said  a  voice  on  the  other  side,  "  he  must 
have  this."  Arms  were  about  his  neck  detaining  him 
in  the  doorway,  and  a  black  subtly-folding  mantle 
hung  from  his  shoulders.  He  threw  his  arm  free  of  this 
and  followed  Lincoln.  He  perceived  the  girl  in  grey 
close  to  him,  her  face  lit,  her  gesture  onward.  For 
the  instant  she  became  to  him,  flushed  and  eager  as 
she  was,  an  embodiment  of  the  song.  He  emerged 
in  the  alcove  again.  Incontinently  the  mounting  waves 
of  the  song  broke  upon  his  appearing,  and  flashed  up 
into  a  foam  of  shouting.  Guided  by  Lincoln's  hand 
he  marched  obliquely  across  the  centre  of  the  stage 
facing  the  people. 

The  hall  was  a  vast  and  intricate  space  —  galleries, 
balconies,  broad  spaces  of  amphitheatral  steps,  and 
great  archways.  Far  away,  high  up,  seemed  the 
mouth  of  a  huge  passage  full  of  struggling  humanity. 
The  whole  multitude  was  swaying  in  congested  masses. 
Individual  figures  sprang  out  of  the  tumult,  impressed 
him  momentarily,  and  lost  definition  again.  Qose  to 
the  platform  swayed  a  beautiful  fair  woman,  carried 
by  three  men,  her  hair  across  her  face  and  brandishing 
a  green  staff.  Next  this  group  an  old  careworn  man 
in  blue  canvas  maintained  his  place  in  the  crush  with 
difficulty,  and  behind  shouted  a  hairless  face,  a  great 
cavity  of  toothless  mouth.  A  voice  called  that  enig- 
matical word  "  Ostrog."  All  his  impressions  were 
vague  save  the  massive  emotion  of  that  trampling 
song.  The  multitude  were  beating  time  with  their 
feet  ^  marking   time,    tramp,    tramp,   tramp,    tramp. 

100 


THE  PEOPLE  MARCH 

The  green  weapons  waved,  flashed  and  slanted.  Then 
he  saw  those  nearest  to  him  on  a  level  space  before 
the  stage  were  marching  in  front  of  him,  passing 
towards  a  great  archway,  shouting  "  To  the  Council!  " 
Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  tramp.  He  raised  his  arm,  and 
the  roaring  was  redoubled.  He  remembered  he  had 
to  shout  "  March !  "  His  mouth  shaped  inaudible 
heroic  words.  He  waved  his  arm  again  and  pointed 
to  the  archway,  shouting  "  Onward!  "  They  were  no 
longer  marking  time,  they  were  marching;  tramp, 
tramp,  tramp,  tramp.  In  that  host  were  bearded  men, 
old  men,  youths,  fluttering  robed  bare-armed  women, 
girls.  Men  and  women  of  the  new  age !  Rich  robes, 
grey  rags  fluttered  together  in  the  whirl  of  their  move- 
ment amidst  the  dominant  blue.  A  monstrous  black 
banner  jerked  its  way  to  the  right.  He  perceived  a 
blue-clad  negro,  a  shrivelled  woman  in  yellow,  then  a 
group  of  tall  fair-haired,  white-faced,  blue-clad  men 
pushed  theatrically  past  him.  He  noted  two  China- 
men. A  tall,  sallow,  dark-haired,  shining-eyed  youth, 
white  clad  from  top  to  toe,  clambered  up  towards  the 
platform  shouting  loyally,  and  sprang  down  again  and 
receded,  looking  backward.  Heads,  shoulders,  hands 
clutching  weapons,  all  were  swinging  with  those  march- 
ing cadences. 

Faces  came  out  of  the  confusion  to  him  as  he  stood 
there,  eyes  met  his  and  passed  and  vanished.  Men 
gesticulated  to  him,  shouted  inaudible  personal  things. 
Most  of  the  faces  were  flushed,  but  many  were  ghastly 
white.  And  disease  was  there,  and  many  a  hand  that 
waved  to  him  was  gaunt  and  lean.  Men  and  women 
of  the  new  age!     Strange  and  incredible  meeting!    As 

lOI 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

the  broad  stream  passed  before  him  to  the  right,  tribu- 
tary gangways  from  the  remote  uplands  of  the  hall 
thrust  downward  in  an  incessant  replacement  of  peo- 
ple; tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  tramp.  The  unison  of  the 
song  was  enriched  and  complicated  by  the  massive 
echoes  of  arches  and  passages.  Men  and  women 
mingled  in  the  ranks;  tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  tramp. 
The  whole  world  seemed  marching.  Tramp,  tramp, 
tramp,  tramp ;  his  brain  was  tramping.  The  garments 
waved  onward,  the  faces  poured  by  more  abundantly. 
Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  tramp;  at  Lincoln's  pressure 
he  turned  towards  the  archway,  walking  unconsciously 
in  that  rhythm,  scarcely  noticing  his  movement  for  the 
melody  and  stir  of  it.  The  multitude,  the  gesture  and 
song,  all  moved  in  that  direction,  the  flow  of  people 
smote  downward  until  the  upturned  faces  were  below 
the  level  of  his  feet.  He  was  aware  of  a  path  before 
him,  of  a  suite  about  him,  of  guards  and  dignities,  and 
Lincoln  on  his  right  hand.  Attendants  intervened, 
and  ever  and  again  blotted  out  the  sight  of  the  multi- 
tude to  the  left.  Before  him  went  the  backs  of  the 
guards  in  black  —  three  and  three  and  three.  He  was 
marched  along  a  little  railed  way,  and  crossed  above 
the  archway,  with  the  torrent  dipping  to  flow  beneath, 
and  shouting  up  to  him.  He  did  not  know  whither 
he  went;  he  did  not  want  to  know.  He  glanced  back 
across  a  flaming  spaciousness  of  hall.  Tramp,  tramp, 
tramp,  tramp. 


1C2 


CHAPTER  X 
THE  BATTLE  OF  THE   DARKNESS 

He  was  no  longer  in  the  hall.  He  was  marching" 
along  a  gallery  overhanging  one  of  the  great  streets 
of  the  moving  platforms  that  traversed  the  city. 
Before  him  and  behind  him  tramped  his  guards.  The 
whole  concave  of  the  moving  ways  below  was  a  con- 
gested mass  of  people  marching,  tramping  to  the  left, 
shouting,  waving  hands  and  arms,  pouring  along  a 
huge  vista,  shouting  as  they  came  into  view,  shouting 
as  they  passed,  shouting  as  they  receded,  until  the 
globes  of  electric  light  receding  in  perspective  dropped 
down  it  seemed  and  hid  the  swarming  bare  heads. 
Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  tramp. 

The  song  roared  up  to  Graham  now,  no  longer 
upborne  by  music,  but  coarse  and  noisy,  and  the  beat- 
ing of  the  marching  feet,  tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  tramp, 
interwove  with  a  thunderous  irregularity  of  footsteps 
from  the  undisciplined  rabble  that  poured  along  the 
higher  ways. 

Abruptly  he  noted  a  contrast.  The  buildings  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  way  seemed  deserted,  the 
cables  and  bridges  that  laced  across  the  aisle  were 
empty  and  shadowy.  It  came  into  Graham's  mind 
that  these  also  should  have  swarmed  with  people. 

He  felt  a  curious  emotion  —  throbbing  —  very  fast! 
He  stopped  again.     The  guards  before  him  marched 

103 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

on;  those  about  him  stopped  as  he  did.  He  saw  the 
direction  of  their  faces.  The  throbbing  had  something 
to  do  with  the  hghts.     He  too  looked  up. 

At  first  it  seemed  to  him  a  thing  that  afifected  the 
lights  simply,  an  isolated  phenomenon,  having  no 
bearing  on  the  things  below.  Each  huge  globe  of 
blinding  whiteness  was  as  it  were  clutched,  compressed 
in  a  systole  that  was  followed  by  a  transitory  diastole, 
and  again  a  systole  hke  a  tightening  grip,  darkness, 
light,  darkness,  in  rapid  alternation. 

Graham  became  aware  that  this  strange  behaviour 
of  the  lights  had  to  do  with  the  people  below.  The 
appearance  of  the  houses  and  ways,  the  appearance 
of  the  packed  masses  changed,  became  a  confusion  of 
vivid  lights  and  leaping  shadows.  He  saw  a  multi- 
tude of  shadows  had  sprung  into  aggressive  existence, 
seemed  rushing  up,  broadening,  widening,  growing 
with  steady  swiftness  —  to  leap  suddenly  back  and 
return  reinforced.  The  song  and  the  tramping  had 
ceased.  The  unanimous  march,  he  discovered,  was 
arrested,  there  were  eddies,  a  flow  sideways,  shouts  of 
"  The  lights ! "  Voices  were  crying  together  one 
thing.  "The  lights!"  cried  these  voices.  "The 
lights!"  He  looked  down.  In  this  dancing  death 
of  the  lights  the  area  of  the  street  had  suddenly 
become  a  monstrous  struggle.  The  huge  white  globes 
became  purple-white,  purple  with  a  reddish  glow,  flick- 
ered, flickered  faster  and  faster,  fluttered  between  light 
and  extinction,  ceased  to  flicker  and  became  mere  fad- 
ing specks  of  glowing  red  in  a  vast  obscurity.  In  ten 
seconds  the  extinction  was  accomplished,  and  there 
was  only  this  roaring  darkness,  a  black  monstrosity 

104 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  DARKNESS 

that    had    suddenly    swallowed    up    those    glittering 
myriads  of  men. 

He  felt  invisible  forms  about  him;  his  arms  were 
gripped.  Something  rapped  sharply  against  his  shin. 
A  voice  bawled  in  his  ear,  "  It  is  all  right  —  all  right." 

Graham  shook  ofif  the  paralysis  of  his  first  astonish- 
ment. He  struck  his  forehead  against  Lincoln's  and 
bawled,  "  What  is  this  darkness?  " 

"  The  Council  has  cut  the  currents  that  light  the 
city.  We  must  wait  —  stop.  The  people  will  go  on. 
They  will  — " 

His  voice  was  drowned.  Voices  were  shouting, 
"  Save  the  Sleeper.  Take  care  of  the  Sleeper."  A 
guard  stumbled  against  Graham  and  hurt  his  hand  by 
an  inadvertent  blow  of  his  weapon.  A  wild  tumult 
tossed  and  whirled  about  him,  growing,  as  it  seemed, 
louder,  denser,  more  furious  each  moment.  Frag- 
ments of  recognisable  sounds  drove  towards  him,  were 
whirled  away  from  him  as  his  mind  reached  out  to 
grasp  them.  Voices  seemed  to  be  shouting  conflicting 
orders,  other  voices  answered.  There  were  suddenly 
a  succession  of  piercing  screams  close  beneath  them. 

A  voice  bawled  in  his  ear,  "  The  red  police/'  and 
receded  forthwith  beyond  his  questions. 

A  crackling  sound  grew  to  distinctness,  and  there- 
with a  leaping  of  faint  flashes  along  the  edge  of  the 
further  ways.  By  their  light  Graham  saw  the  heads 
and  bodies  of  a  number  of  men,  armed  with  weapons 
like  those  of  his  guards,  leap  into  an  instant's  dim  visi- 
bility. The  whole  area  began  to  crackle,  to  flash  with 
little  instantaneous  streaks  of  light,  and  abruptly  the 
darkness  rolled  back  like  a  curtain. 

105 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

A  glare  of  light  dazzled  his  eyes,  a  vast  seething 
expanse  of  struggling  men  confused  his  mind.  A 
shout,  a  burst  of  cheering,  came  across  the  ways.  He 
looked  up  to  see  the  source  of  the  light.  A  man  hung 
far  overhead  from  the  upper  part  of  a  cable,  holding  by 
a  rope  the  blinding  star  that  had  driven  the  darkness 
back.     He  wore  a  red  uniform. 

Graham's  eyes  fell  to  the  ways  again.  A  wedge  of 
red  a  little  way  along  the  vista  caught  his  eye.  He 
saw  it  was  a  dense  mass  of  red-clad  men  jammed  on 
the  higher  further  way,  their  backs  against  the  pitiless 
cliff  of  building,  and  surrounded  by  a  dense  crowd  of 
antagonists.  They  were  fighting.  Weapons  flashed 
and  rose  and  fell,  heads  vanished  at  the  edge  of  the 
contest,  and  other  heads  replaced  them,  the  little 
flashes  from  the  green  weapons  became  little  jets  of 
smoky  grey  while  the  light  lasted. 

Abruptly  the  flare  was  extinguished  and  the  ways 
were  an  inky  darkness  once  more,  a  tumultuous 
mystery. 

He  felt  something  thrusting  against  him.  He  was 
being  pushed  along  the  gallery.  Someone  was  shout- 
ing —  it  might  be  at  him.  He  was  too  confused  to 
hear.  He  was  thrust  against  the  wall,  and  a  number  of 
people  blundered  past  him.  It  seemed  to  him  that  his 
guards  were  struggling  with  one  another. 

Suddenly  the  cable-hung  star-holder  appeared  again, 
and  the  whole  scene  was  white  and  dazzling.  The 
band  of  red-coats  seemed  broader  and  nearer;  its  apex 
was  half-way  down  the  ways  towards  the  central  aisle. 
And  raising  his  eyes  Graham  saw  that  a  number  of 
these  men  had  also  appeared   now   in   the    darkened 

io6 


THE  BATTLE  OP  THE  DARKNESS 

lower  g-alleries  of  the  opposite  building,  and  were  firing 
over  the  heads  of  their  fellows  below  at  the  boiling 
confusion  of  people  on  the  lower  ways.  The  meaning 
of  these  things  dawned  upon  him.  The  march  of  the 
people  had  come  upon  an  ambush  at  the  very  outset. 
Thrown  into  confusion  by  the  extinction  of  the  lights 
they  were  now  being  attacked  by  the  red  poHce.  Then 
he  became  aware  that  he  was  standing  alone,  that  his 
guards  and  Lincoln  were  along  the  gallery  in  the 
direction  along  which  he  had  come  before  the  darkness 
fell.  He  saw  they  were  gesticulating  to  him  wildly, 
running  back  towards  him.  A  great  shouting  came 
from  across  the  ways.  Then  it  seemed  as  though  the 
whole  face  of  the  darkened  building  opposite  was  lined 
and  speckled  with  red-clad  men.  And  they  were  point- 
ing over  to  him  and  shouting.  "  The  Sleeper!  Save 
the  Sleeper!  "  shouted  a  multitude  of  throats. 

Something  struck  the  wall  above  his  head.  He 
looked  up  at  the  impact  and  saw  a  star-shaped  splash 
of  silvery  metal.  He  saw  Lincoln  near  him.  Felt  his 
arm  gripped.  Then,  pat,  pat;  he  had  been  missed 
twice. 

For  a  moment  he  did  not  understand  this.  The 
street  was  hidden,  everything  was  hidden,  as  he  looked. 
The  second  flare  had  burned  out. 

Lincoln  had  gripped  Graham  by  the  arm,  was 
lugging  him  along  the  gallery.  "  Before  the  next 
light!"  he  cried.  His  haste  was  contagious.  Gra- 
ham's instinct  of  self-preservation  overcame  the  paraly- 
sis of  his  incredulous  astonishment.  He  became  for 
a  time  the  blind  creature  of  the  fear  of  death.  He  ran, 
stumbling  because  of  the  uncertainty  of  the  darkness, 

107 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

blundered  into  his  guards  as  they  turned  to  run  with 
him.  Haste  was  his  one  desire,  to  escape  this  perilous 
gallery  upon  which  he  was  exposed.  A  third  glare 
came  close  on  its  predecessors.  With  it  came  a  great 
shouting  across  the  ways,  an  answering  tumult  from 
the  ways.  The  red-coats  below,  he  saw,  had  now 
almost  gained  the  central  passage.  Their  countless 
faces  turned  towards  him,  and  they  shouted.  The 
white  fagade  opposite  was  densely  stippled  with  red. 
All  these  wonderful  things  concerned  him,  turned  upon 
him  as  a  pivot.  These  were  the  guards  of  the  Council 
attempting  to  recapture  him. 

Lucky  it  was  for  him  that  these  shots  were  the  first 
fired  in  anger  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  years.  He  heard 
bullets  whacking  over  his  head,  felt  a  splash  of  molten 
metal  sting  his  ear,  and  perceived  without  looking  that 
the  whole  opposite  faqade,  an  unmasked  ambuscade  of 
red  police,  was  crowded  and  bawling  and  firing  at  him. 

Down  went  one  of  his  guards  before  him,  and  Gra- 
ham, unable  to  stop,  leapt  the  writhing  body. 

In  another  second  he  had  plunged,  unhurt,  into  a 
black  passage,  and  incontinently  someone,  coming,  it 
may  be,  in  a  transverse  direction,  blundered  violently 
into  him.  He  was  hurling  down  a  staircase  in  abso- 
lute darkness.  He  reeled,  and  was  struck  again,  and 
came  against  a  wall  with  his  hands.  He  was  crushed 
by  a  weight  of  struggling  bodies,  whirled  round,  and 
thrust  to  the  right.  A  vast  pressure  pinned  him.  He 
could  not  breathe,  his  ribs  seemed  cracking.  He  felt 
a  momentary  relaxation,  and  then  the  whole  mass  of 
people  moving  together,  bore  him  back  towards  the 
great  theatre  from  which  he  had  so  recently  come. 

io8 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  DARKNESS 

There  were  moments  when  his  feet  did  not  touch  the 
ground.  Then  he  was  staggering  and  shoving.  He 
heard  shouts  of  "They  are  coming!"  and  a  muffled 
cry  close  to  him.  His  foot  blundered  against  some- 
thing soft,  he  heard  a  hoarse  scream  under  foot.  He 
heard  shouts  of  "The  Sleeper!  "  but  he  was  too  con- 
fused to  speak.  He  heard  the  green  weapons 
crackling.  For  a  space  he  lost  his  individual  will,  be- 
came an  atom  in  a  panic,  blind,  unthinking,  mechan- 
ical. He  thrust  and  pressed  back  and  writhed  in  the 
pressure,  kicked  presently  against  a  step,  and  found 
himself  ascending  a  slope.  And  abruptly  the  faces  all 
about  him  leapt  out  of  the  black,  visible,  ghastly-white 
and  astonished,  terrified,  perspiring,  in  a  livid  glare. 
One  face,  a  young  man's,  was  very  near  to  him,  not 
twenty  inches  away.  At  the  time  it  was  but  a  passing 
incident  of  no  emotional  value,  but  afterwards  it  came 
back  to  him  in  his  dreams.  For  this  young  man, 
wedged  upright  in  the  crowd  for  a  time,  had  been  shot 
and  was  already  dead. 

A  fourth  white  star  must  have  been  lit  by  the  man 
on  the  cable.  Its  light  came  glaring  in  through  vast 
windows  and  arches  and  showed  Graham  that  he  was 
now  one  of  a  dense  mass  of  flying  black  figures  pressed 
back  across  the  lower  area  of  the  great  theatre.  This 
time  the  picture  was  livid  and  fragmentary,  slashed 
and  barred  with  black  shadows.  He  saw  that  quite 
near  to  him  the  red  guards  were  fighting  their  way 
through  the  people.  He  could  not  tell  whether  they 
saw  him.  He  looked  for  Lincoln  and  his  guards.  He 
saw  Lincoln  near  the  stage  of  the  theatre  surrounded 
in  a  crowd  of  black-badged  revolutionaries,  lifted  up 

109 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

and  staring  to  and  fro  as  if  seeking  him.  Graham  per- 
ceived that  he  himself  was  near  the  opposite  edge  of 
the  crowd,  that  behind  him,  separated  by  a  barrier, 
sloped  the  now  vacant  seats  of  the  theatre.  A  sudden 
idea  came  to  him,  and  he  began  fighting  his  way 
towards  the  barrier.  As  he  reached  it  the  glare  came 
to  an  end. 

In  a  moment  he  had  thrown  off  the  great  cloak  that 
not  only  impeded  his  movements  but  made  him  con- 
spicuous, and  had  slipped  it  from  his  shoulders.  He 
heard  someone  trip  in  its  folds.  In  another  he  was 
scaling  the  barrier  and  had  dropped  into  the  blackness 
on  the  further  side.  Then  feeling  his  way  he  came  to 
the  lower  end  of  an  ascending  gangway.  In  the  dark- 
ness the  sound  of  firing  ceased  and  the  roar  of  feet  and 
voices  lulled.  Then  suddenly  he  came  to  an  unex- 
pected step  and  tripped  and  fell.  As  he  did  so  pools 
and  islands  amidst  the  darkness  about  him  leapt  to 
vivid  light  again,  the  uproar  surged  louder  and  the 
glare  of  the  fifth  white  star  shone  through  the  vast 
fenestrations  of  the  theatre  walls. 

He  rolled  over  among  some  seats,  heard  a  shouting 
and  the  whirring  rattle  of  weapons,  struggled  up  and 
was  knocked  back  again,  perceived  that  a  number  of 
black-badged  men  were  all  about  him  firing  at  the  reds 
below,  leaping  from  seat  to  seat,  crouching  among  the 
seats  to  reload.  Instinctively  he  crouched  amidst  the 
seats,  as  stray  shots  ripped  the  pneumatic  cushions  and 
cut  bright  slashes  on  their  soft  metal  frames.  Instinct- 
ively he  marked  the  direction  of  the  gangways,  the 
most  plausible  way  of  escape  for  him  so  soon  as  the 
veil  of  darkness  fell  again. 

no 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  DARKNESS 

A  young  man  in  faded  blue  garments  came  vaulting 
over  the  seats.  "  Hullo!  "  he  said,  with  his  flying  feet 
within  six  inches  of  the  crouching  Sleeper's  face. 

He  stared  without  any  sign  of  recognition,  turned 
to  fire,  fired,  and,  shouting,  "  To  hell  with  the  Coun- 
cil! "  was  about  to  fire  again.  Then  it  seemed  to  Gra- 
ham that  the  half  of  this  man's  neck  had  vanished.  A 
drop  of  moisture  fell  on  Graham's  cheek.  The  green 
weapon  stopped  half  raised.  For  a  moment  the  man 
stood  still  with  his  face  suddenly  expressionless,  then 
he  began  to  slant  forward.  His  knees  bent.  Man  and 
darkness  fell  together.  At  the  sound  of  his  fall  Gra- 
ham rose  up  and  ran  for  his  life  until  a  step  down  to 
the  gangway  tripped  him.  He  scrambled  to  his  feet, 
turned  up  the  gangway  and  ran  on. 

When  the  sixth  star  glared  he  was  already  close  to 
the  yawning  throat  of  a  passage.  He  ran  on  the 
swifter  for  the  light,  entered  the  passage  and  turned  a 
comer  into  absolute  night  again.  He  was  knocked 
sideways,  rolled  over,  and  recovered  his  feet.  He 
found  himself  one  of  a  crowd  of  invisible  fugitives 
pressing  in  one  direction.  His  one  thought  now  was 
their  thought  also;  to  escape  out  of  this  fighting.  He 
thrust  and  struck,  staggered,  ran,  was  wedged  tightly, 
lost  ground  and  then  was  clear  again. 

For  some  minutes  he  was  running  through  the  dark- 
ness along  a  winding  passage,  and  then  he  crossed 
some  wide  and  open  space,  passed  down  a  long  incline, 
and  came  at  last  down  a  flight  of  steps  to  a  level  place. 
Many  people  were  shouting,  "  They  are  coming!  The 
guards  are  coming.  They  are  firing.  Get  out  of  the 
fighting.     The  guards  are  firing.     It  will  be  safe  in 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Seventh  Way.  Along  here  to  Seventh  Way !  "  There 
v^^ere  women  and  children  in  the  crowd  as  well  as  men. 
Men  called  names  to  him.  The  crowd  converged  on 
an  archway,  passed  through  a  short  throat  and 
emerged  on  a  wider  space  again,  lit  dimly.  The  black 
figures  about  him  spread  out  and  ran  up  what  seemed 
in  the  twilight  to  be  a  gigantic  series  of  steps.  He  fol- 
lowed. The  people  dispersed  to  the  right  and  left. 
.  .  .  He  perceived  that  he  was  no  longer  in  a 
crowd.  He  stopped  near  the  highest  step.  Before 
him,  on  that  level,  were  groups  of  seats  and  a  little 
kiosk.  He  went  up  to  this  and,  stopping  in  the  shadow 
of  its  eaves,  looked  about  him  panting, 

Evei-ything  was  vague  and  gray,  but  he  recognised 
that  these  great  steps  were  a  series  of  platforms  of  the 
"  ways,"  now  motionless  again.  The  platform  slanted 
up  on  either  side,  and  the  tall  buildings  rose  beyond, 
vast  dim  ghosts,  their  inscriptions  and  advertisements 
indistinctly  seen,  and  up  through  the  girders  and 
cables  was  a  faint  interrupted  ribbon  of  pallid  sky.  A 
number  of  people  hurried  by.  From  their  shouts  and 
voices,  it  seemed  they  were  hurrying  to  join  the  fight- 
ing. Other  less  noisy  figures  flitted  timidly  among  the 
shadows. 

From  very  far  away  down  the  street  he  could  hear 
the  sound  of  a  struggle.  But  it  was  evident  to  him 
that  this  was  not  the  street  into  which  the  theatra 
opened.  That  former  fight,  it  seemed,  had  suddenly 
dropped  out  of  sound  and  hearing.  And  —  grotesque 
thought !  —  they  were  fighting  for  him ! 

For  a  space  he  was  like  a  man  who  pauses  in  the 
reading  of  a  vivid  book,  and  suddenly  doubts  what  he 

112 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  DARKNESS 

has  been  taking  unquestioningly.  At  that  time  he  had 
httle  mind  for  details;  the  whole  effect  was  a  huge 
astonishment.  Oddly  enough,  while  the  flight  from 
the  Council  prison,  the  great  crowd  in  the  hall,  and 
the  attack  of  the  red  police  upon  the  swarming  people 
were  clearly  present  in  his  mind,  it  cost  him  an  effort 
to  piece  in  his  awakening  and  to  revive  the  meditative 
interval  of  the  Silent  Rooms.  At  first  his  memory 
leapt  these  things  and  took  him  back  to  the  cascade 
at  Pentargen  quivering  in  the  wind,  and  all  the  sombre 
splendours  of  the  sunlit  Cornish  coast.  The  contrast 
touched  everything  with  unreality.  And  then  the  gap 
filled,  and  he  began  to  comprehend  his  position. 

It  was  no  longer  absolutely  a  riddle,  as  it  had  been 
in  the  Silent  Rooms.  At  least  he  had  the  strange, 
bare  outline  now.  He  was  in  some  way  the  owner  of 
half  the  world,  and  great  political  parties  were  fighting 
to  possess  him.  On  the  one  hand  was  the  White  Coun- 
cil, with  its  red  police,  set  resolutely,  it  seemed,  on  the 
usurpation  of  his  property  and  perhaps  his  murder;  on 
the  other,  the  revolution  that  had  liberated  him,  with 
this  unseen  "  Ostrog  "  as  its  leader.  And  the  whole 
of  this  gigantic  city  was  convulsed  by  their  struggle. 
Frantic  development  of  his  world!  "  I  do  not  under- 
stand," he  cried.    "I  do  not  understand!" 

He  had  slipped  out  between  the  contending  parties 
into  this  liberty  of  the  twilight.  What  would  happen 
next?  What  was  happening?  He  figured  the  red- 
clad  men  as  busily  hunting  him,  driving  the  black- 
badged  revolutionists  before  them. 

At  any  rate  chance  had  given  him  a  breathing  space. 
He  could  lurk  unchallenged  by  the  passers-by,  and 

113  H 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

watch  the  course  of  things.  His  eye  followed  up  the 
intricate  dim  immensity  of  the  twilight  buildings,  and 
it  came  to  him  as  a  thing  infinitely  wonderful,  that 
above  there  the  sun  was  rising,  and  the  world  was  lit 
and  glowing  with  the  old  familiar  light  of  day.  In  a 
little  while  he  had  recovered  his  breath.  His  clothing 
had  already  dried  upon  him  from  the  snow. 

He  wandered  for  miles  along  these  twilight  ways, 
speaking  to  no  one,   accosted  by  no  one  —  a  dark 
figure  among  dark  figures  —  the  coveted  man  out  of 
the  past,  the  inestimable  unintentional  owner  of  half 
the   world.     Wherever   there   were    lights    or   dense 
crowds,  or  exceptional  excitement  he  was  afraid    of 
recognition,  and  watched  and  turned  back  or  went  up 
and  down  by  the  middle  stairways,  into  some  trans- 
verse system  of  ways  at  a  lower  or  higher  level.    And 
though  he  came  on  no  more  fighting,  the  whole  city 
stirred  with  battle.     Once  he  had  to  run  to  avoid  a 
marching  multitude  of  men  that    swept    the  street. 
Everyone  abroad  seemed  involved.    For  the  most  part 
they  were  men,  and  they  carried  what  he  judged  were 
weapons.    It  seemed  as  though  the  struggle  was  con- 
centrated mainly  in  the  quarter  of  the  city  from  which 
he  came.    Ever  and  again  a  distant  roaring,  the  remote 
suggestion  of  that  conflict,  reached  his  ears.    Then  his 
caution  and  his  curiosity  struggled  together.    But  his 
caution  prevailed,  and  he  continued  wandering  away 
from  the  fighting  —  so  far  as  he  could  judge.     He 
went    unmolested,    unsuspected    through    the    dark. 
After  a  time  he  ceased  to  hear  even  a  remote  echo  of 
the  battle,  fewer  and  fewer  people  passed  him,  until  at 
last  the  Titanic  streets  became  deserted.    The  front- 

114 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  DARKNESS 

ages  of  the  buildings  grew  plain  and  harsh ;  he  seemed 
to  have  come  to  a  district  of  vacant  warehouses.  Soli- 
tude crept  upon  him  —  his  pace  slackened. 

He  became  aware  of  a  growing  fatigue.  At  times 
he  would  turn  aside  and  seat  himself  on  one  of  the 
numerous  seats  of  the  upper  ways.  But  a  feverish 
restlessness,  the  knowledge  of  his  vital  impHcation  in 
this  struggle,  would  not  let  him  rest  in  any  place  for 
long.    Was  the  struggle  on  his  behalf  alone? 

And  then  in  a  desolate  place  came  the  shock  of  an 
earthquake  —  a  roaring  and  thundering  —  a  mighty 
wind  of  cold  air  pouring  through  the  city,  the  smash 
of  glass,  the  slip  and  thud  of  falling  masonry  —  a 
series  of  gigantic  concussions.  A  mass  of  glass  and 
ironwork  fell  from  the  remote  roofs  into  the  middle 
gallery,  not  a  hundred  yards  away  from  him,  and  in 
the  distance  were  shouts  and  running.  He,  too,  was 
startled  to  an  aimless  activity,  and  ran  first  one  way 
and  then  as  aimlessly  back. 

A  man  came  running  towards  him.  His  self-control 
returned.  "  What  have  they  blown  up?  "  asked  the 
man  breathlessly.  "  That  was  an  explosion,"  and  be- 
fore Graham  could  speak  he  had  hurried  on. 

The  great  buildings  rose  dimly,  veiled  by  a  perplex- 
ing twilight,  albeit  the  rivulet  of  sky  above  was  now 
bright  with  day.  He  noted  many  strange  features, 
understanding  none  at  the  time;  he  even  spelt  out 
many  of  the  inscriptions  in  Phonetic  lettering.  But 
what  profits  it  to  decipher  a  confusion  of  odd-looking 
letters  resolving  itself,  after  painful  strain  of  eye  and 
mind,  into  "  Here  is  Eadhamite,"  or,  "  Labour  Bu- 
reau—  Little  Side?"    Grotesque  thought,  that  in  all 

"5 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

probability  some  or  all  of  these  cliff-like  houses  were 
his! 

The  perversity  of  his  experience  came  to  him  viv- 
idly. In  actual  fact  he  had  made  such  a  leap  in  time 
as  romancers  have  imagined  again  and  again.  And 
that  fact  realised,  he  had  been  prepared,  his  mind  had, 
as  it  were,  seated  itself  for  a  spectacle.  And  no  spec- 
tacle, but  a  great  vague  danger,  unsympathetic 
shadows  and  veils  of  darkness.  Somewhere  through 
the  labyrinthine  obscurity  his  death  sought  him. 
Would  he,  after  all,  be  killed  before  he  saw?  It  might 
be  that  even  at  the  next  shadowy  corner  his  destruc- 
tion ambushed.  A  great  desire  to  see,  a  great  longing 
to  know,  arose  in  him. 

He  became  fearful  of  corners.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  there  was  safety  in  concealment.  Where  could 
he  hide  to  be  inconspicuous  when  the  lights  returned? 
At  last  he  sat  down  upon  a  seat  in  a  recess  on  one 
of  the  higher  ways,  conceiving  he  was  alone  there. 

He  squeezed  his  knuckles  into  his  weary  eyes.  Sup- 
pose when  he  looked  again  he  found  the  dark  trough 
of  parallel  ways  and  that  intolerable  altitude  of  edifice, 
gone?  Suppose  he  were  to  discover  the  whole  story 
of  these  last  few  days,  the  awakening,  the  shouting 
multitudes,  the  darkness  and  the  fighting,  a  phantas- 
magoria, a  new  and  more  vivid  sort  of  dream.  It 
must  be  a  dream;  it  was  so  inconsecutive,  so  reason- 
less. Why  were  the  people  fighting  for  him?  Why 
should  this  saner  world  regard  him  as  Owner  and 
Master? 

So  he  thought,  sitting  blinded,  and  then  he  looked 
again,  half  hoping  in  spite  of  his  ears  to  see  some 

ii6 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  DARKNESS 

familiar  aspect  of  the  life  of  the  nineteenth  century,  to 
see,  perhaps,  the  little  harbour  of  Boscastle  about  him, 
the  cliffs  of  Pentargen,  or  the  bedroom  of  his  home. 
But  fact  takes  no  heed  of  human  hopes.  A  squad 
of  men  with  a  black  banner  tramped  athwart  the 
nearer  shadows,  intent  on  conflict,  and  beyond  rose 
that  giddy  wall  of  frontage,  vast  and  dark,  with  the  dim 
incomprehensible  lettering  showing  faintly  on  its  face. 
"  It  is  no  dream,"  he  said,  "  no  dream."  And  he 
bowed  his  face  upon  his  hands. 


117 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  OLD  MAN  WHO  KNEW  EVERYTHING 

He  was  startled  by  a  cough  close  at  hand. 

He  turned  sharply,  and  peering,  saw  a  small, 
hunched-up  figure  sitting  a  couple  of  yards  off  in  the 
shadow  of  the  enclosure. 

"  Have  ye  any  news? "  asked  the  high-pitched 
wheezy  voice  of  a  very  old  man. 

Graham  hesitated,    "  None,"  he  said. 

"  I  stay  here  till  the  lights  come  again,"  said  the  old 
man.  "  These  blue  scoundrels  are  everywhere  — 
everywhere." 

Graham's  answer  was  inarticulate  assent.  He  tried 
to  see  the  old  man  but  the  darkness  hid  his  face.  He 
wanted  very  much  to  respond,  to  talk,  but  he  did  not 
know  how  to  begin. 

"  Dark  and  damnable,"  said  the  old  man  suddenly. 
"  Dark  and  damnable.  Turned  out  of  my  room  among 
all  these  dangers." 

"  That's  hard,"  ventured  Graham.  "  That's  hard  on 
you." 

"  Darkness.  An  old  man  lost  in  the  darkness.  And 
all  the  world  gone  mad.  War  and  fighting.  The 
police  beaten  and  rogues  abroad.  Why  don't  they 
bring  some  negroes  to  protect  us?  .  .  .  No  more 
dark  passages  for  me.    I  fell  over  a  dead  man." 

"  You're  safer  with  company,"  said  the  old  man,  "if 
ii8 


THE  OLD  MAN  WHO  KNEW  EVERYTHING 

it's  company  of  the  right  sort,"  and  peered  frankly. 
He  rose  suddenly  and  came  towards  Graham. 

Apparently  the  scrutiny  was  satisfactory.  The  old 
man  sat  down  as  if  relieved  to  be  no  longer  alone. 
'■'  Eh!  "  he  said,  "  but  this  is  a  terrible  time!  War  and 
fighting,  and  the  dead  lying  there  —  men,  strong  men, 
dying  in  the  dark.  Sons!  I  have  three  sons.  God 
knows  where  they  are  tonight." 

The  voice  ceased.  Then  repeated  quavering:  "  God 
knows  where  they  are  tonight." 

Graham  stood  revolving  a  question  that  should  not 
betray  his  ignorance.  Again  the  old  man's  voice 
ended  the  pause. 

"  This  Ostrog  will  win,"  he  said.  "He  will  win.  And 
what  the  world  will  be  like  under  him  no  one  can 
tell.  My  sons  are  under  the  wind-vanes,  all  three. 
One  of  my  daughters-in-law  was  his  mistress  for  a 
while.  His  mistress!  We're  not  common  people. 
Though  they've  sent  me  to  wander  tonight  and  take 
my  chance.  ...  I  knew  what  was  going  on.  Be- 
fore most  people.  But  this  darkness!  And  to  fall 
over  a  dead  body  suddenly  in  the  dark!  " 

His  wheezy  breathing  could  be  heard. 

"  Ostrog!  "  said  Graham. 

"  The  greatest  Boss  the  world  has  ever  seen,"  said 
the  voice. 

Graham  ransacked  his  mind.  "  The  Council  has  few 
friends  among  the  people,"  he  hazarded. 

"  Few  friends.  And  poor  ones  at  that.  They've 
had  their  time.  Eh!  They  should  have  kept  to  the 
clever  ones.  But  twice  they  held  election.  And 
Ostrog — .    And  now  it  has  burst  out  and  nothing  can 

119 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

stay  it,  nothing  can  stay  it.  Twice  they  rejected 
Ostrog  —  Ostrog  the  Boss.  I  heard  of  his  rages  at 
the  time  —  he  was  terrible.  Heaven  save  them!  For 
nothing  on  earth  can  now,  he  has  raised  the  Labour 
Companies  upon  them.  No  one  else  would  have 
dared.  All  the  blue  canvas  armed  and  marching!  He 
will  go  through  with  it.    He  will  go  through." 

He  was  silent  for  a  little  while.  "  This  Sleeper,"  he 
said,  and  stopped. 

"  Yes,"  said  Graham.    "  Well?  " 

The  senile  voice  sank  to  a  confidential  whisper,  the 
dim,  pale  face  came  close.    "  The  real  Sleeper  — " 

"  Yes,"  said  Graham. 

"  Died  years  ago." 

"  What?  "  said  Graham,  sharply. 

"  Years  ago.    Died.    Years  ago." 
i     "  You  don't  say  so!  "  said  Graham. 

"  I  do.  I  do  say  so.  He  died.  This  Sleeper  who's 
woke  up  —  they  changed  in  the  night.  A  poor, 
drugged  insensible  creature.  But  I  mustn't  tell  all  I 
know.    I  mustn't  tell  all  I  know." 

For  a  little  while  he  muttered  inaudibly.  His  secret 
was  too  much  for  him.  "  I  don't  know  the  ones  that 
put  him  to  sleep  —  that  was  before  my  time  —  but  I 
know  the  man  who  injected  the  stimulants  and  woke 
him  again.  It  was  ten  to  one  —  wake  or  kill.  Wake 
or  kill.    Ostrog's  way." 

Graham  was  so  astonished  at  these  things  that  he 
had  to  interrupt,  to  make  the  old  man  repeat  his 
words,  to  re-question  vaguely,  before  he  was  sure  of 
the  meaning  and  folly  of  what  he  heard.  And  his 
awakening  had  not  been  natural!     Was  that  an  old 

I20 


THE  OLD  MAN  WHO  KNEW  EVERYTHING 

man's  senile  superstition,  too,  or  had  it  any  truth  in  it? 
Feehng  in  the  dark  corners  of  his  memory,  he  pres- 
ently came  on  something  that  might  conceivably  be 
an  impression  of  some  such  stimulating  effect.  It 
dawned  upon  him  that  he  had  happened  upon  a  lucky 
encounter,  that  at  last  he  might  learn  something  of 
the  new  age.  The  old  man  wheezed  a  while  and  spat, 
and  then  the  piping,  reminiscent  voice  resumed: 

"  The  first  time  they  rejected  him.  I've  followed 
it  all." 

"  Rejected  whom?  "  said  Graham.    "  The  Sleeper?  " 

"Sleeper?  A^o.  Ostrog.  He  was  terrible  —  ter- 
rible! And  he  was  promised  then,  promised  certainly 
the  next  time.  Fools  they  were  —  not  to  be  more 
afraid  of  him.  Now  all  the  city's  his  millstone,  and 
such  as  we  dust  ground  upon  it.  Dust  ground  upon 
it.  Until  he  set  to  work  —  the  workers  cut  each  other's 
throats,  and  murdered  a  Chinaman  or  a  Labour  police- 
man at  times,  and  left  the  rest  of  us  in  peace.  Dead 
bodies!  Robbing!  Darkness!  Such  a  thing  hasn't 
been  this  gross  of  years.  Eh!  —  but  'tis  ill  on  small 
folks  when  the  great  fall  out!  It's  ill." 

"  Did  you  say  —  there  had  not  been  —  what?  —  for 
a  gross  of  years?  " 

"  Eh?  "  said  the  old  man. 

The  old  man  said  something  about  clipping  his 
words,  and  made  him  repeat  this  a  third  time.  "  Fight- 
ing and  slaying,  and  weapons  in  hand,  and  fools  bawl- 
ing freedom  and  the  like,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Not  in 
all  my  life  has  there  been  that.  These  are  like  the  old 
days  —  for  sure  —  when  the  Paris  people  broke  out  — 
three  gross  of  years  ago.    That's  what  I  mean  hasn't 

121 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

been.  But  it's  the  world's  way.  It  had  to  come  back. 
I  know.  I  know.  This  five  years  Ostrog-  has  been 
working,  and  there  has  been  trouble  and  trouble,  and 
hunger  and  threats  and  high  talk  and  arms.  Blue  can- 
vas and  murmurs.  No  one  safe.  Everything  sliding 
and  slipping.  And  now  here  we  are!  Revolt  and 
fighting,  and  the  Council  come  to  its  end." 

"  You  are  rather  well-informed  on  these  things," 
said  Graham. 

"  I  know  what  I  hear.  It  isn't  all  Babble  Machine 
with  me." 

"  No,"  said  Graham,  wondering  what  Babble 
Machine  might  be.  "  And  you  are  certain  this  Ostrog 
—  you  are  certain  Ostrog  organised  this  rebellion  and 
arranged  for  the  waking  of  the  Sleeper?  Just  to  assert 
himself  —  because  he  was  not  elected  to  the  Council?  " 

"  Everyone  knows  that,  I  should  think,"  said  the  old 
man.  "  Except  —  just  fools.  He  meant  to  be  master 
somehow.  In  the  Council  or  not.  Everyone  who 
knows  anything  knows  that.  And  here  we  are  with 
dead  bodies  lying  in  the  dark !  Why,  where  have  you 
been  if  you  haven't  heard  all  about  the  trouble 
between  Ostrog  and  the  Verneys?  And  what  do  you 
think  the  troubles  are  about?  The  Sleeper?  Eh? 
You  think  the  Sleeper's  real  and  woke  of  his  own 
accord  —  eh?  " 

"  I'm  a  dull  man,  older  than  I  look,  and  forgetful," 
said  Graham.  "  Lots  of  things  that  have  happened  — 
especially  of  late  years  — ,  If  I  was  the  Sleeper,  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  couldn't  know  less  about  them." 

"  Eh!  "  said  the  voice.  "  Old,  are  you?  You  don't 
sound  so  very  old!     But  it's  not  everyone  keeps  his 

122 


THE  OLD  MAN  WHO  KNEW  EVERYTHING 

memory  to  my  time  of  life  —  truly.  But  these  noto- 
rious things!  But  you're  not  so  old  as  me  —  not 
nearly  so  old  as  me.  Well!  I  ought  not  to  judge 
other  men  by  myself,  perhaps.  I'm  young  —  for  so 
old  a  man.    Maybe  you're  old  for  so  young." 

"  That's  it,"  said  Graham.  "  And  I've  a  queer  his- 
tory. I  know  very  little.  And  history!  Practically  I 
know  no  history.  The  Sleeper  and  Julius  Caesar  are 
all  the  same  to  me.  It's  interesting  to  hear  you  talk 
of  these  things." 

"  I  know  a  few  things,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I  know 
a  thing  or  two.    But — .    Hark!  " 

The  two  men  became  silent,  listening.  There  was 
a  heavy  thud,  a  concussion  that  made  their  seat  shiver. 
The  passers-by  stopped,  shouted  to  one  another.  The 
old  man  was  full  of  questions;  he  shouted  to  a  man 
who  passed  near.  Graham,  emboldened  by  his  exam- 
ple, got  up  and  accosted  others.  None  knew  what  had 
happened. 

He  returned  to  the  seat  and  found  the  old  man 
muttering  vague  interrogations  in  an  undertone.  For 
a  while  they  said  nothing  to  one  another. 

The  sense  of  this  gigantic  struggle,  so  near  and  yet 
so  remote  oppressed  Graham's  imagination.  Was 
this  old  man  right,  was  the  report  of  the  people  right, 
and  were  the  revolutionaries  winning?  Or  were  they 
all  in  error,  and  were  the  red  guards  driving  all  before 
them?  At  any  time  the  flood  of  warfare  might  pour 
into  this  silent  quarter  of  the  city  and  seize  upon  him 
again.  It  behoved  him  to  learn  all  he  could  while 
there  was  time.    He  turned  suddenly  to  the  old  man 

123 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

with  a  question  and  left  it  unsaid.  But  his  motion 
moved  the  old  man  to  speech  again. 

"Eh!  but  how  things  work  together!"  said  the  old 
man,  "  This  Sleeper  that  all  the  fools  put  their  trust 
in!  I've  the  whole  history  of  it  —  I  was  always  a  good 
one  for  histories.  When  I  was  a  boy  —  I'm  that  old  — 
I  used  to  read  printed  books.  You'd  hardly  think  it. 
Likely  you've  seen  none  —  they  rot  and  dust  so  —  and 
the  Sanitary  Company  burns  them  to  make  ashlarite. 
But  they  were  convenient  in  their  dirty  way.  One 
learnt  a  lot.  These  new-fangled  Babble  Machines  — 
they  don't  seem  new-fangled  to  you,  eh?  —  they're 
easy  to  hear,  easy  to  forget.  But  I've  traced  all  the 
Sleeper  business  from  the  first." 

"  You  will  scarcely  believe  it,"  said  Graham  slowly, 
"I'm  so  ignorant  —  I've  been  so  preoccupied  in  my 
own  little  affairs,  my  circumstances  have  been  so  odd 
—  I  know  nothing  of  this  Sleeper's  history.  Who 
was  he?" 

"  Eh ! "  said  the  old  man.  "  I  know.  I  know.  He 
was  a  poor  nobody,  and  set  on  a  playful  woman,  poor 
soul!  And  he  fell  into  a  trance.  There's  the  old 
things  they  had,  those  brown  things  —  silver  photo- 
graphs—  still  showing  him  as  he  lay,  a  gross  and  a 
half  years  ago  —  a  gross  and  a  half  of  years." 

"  Set  on  a  playful  woman,  poor  soul,"  said  Graham 
softly  to  himself,  and  then  aloud,  "  Yes  — well!  go  on." 

"  You  must  know  he  had  a  cousin  named  Warming, 
a  solitary  man  without  children,  who  made  a  big  for- 
tune speculating  in  roads  —  the  first  Eadhamite  roads. 
But  surely  you've  heard?  No?  Why?  He  bought 
all  the  patent  rights  and  made  a  big  company.     In 

124 


THE  OLD  MAN  WHO  KNEW  EVERYTHING 

those  days  there  were  grosses  of  grosses  of  separate 
businesses  and  business  companies.  Grosses  of 
grosses !  His  roads  killed  the  railroads  —  the  old 
things —  in  two  dozen  years;  he  bought  up  and  Ead- 
hamited  the  tracks.  And  because  he  didn't  want  to 
break  up  his  great  property  or  let  in  shareholders,  he 
left  it  all  to  the  Sleeper,  and  put  it  under  a  Board  of 
Trustees  that  he  had  picked  and  trained.  He  knew 
then  the  Sleeper  wouldn't  wake,  that  he  would  go  on 
sleeping,  sleeping  till  he  died.  He  knew  that  quite 
well!  And  plump!  a  man  in  the  United  States,  who 
had  lost  two  sons  in  a  boat  accident,  followed  that  up 
with  another  great  bequest.  His  trustees  found  them- 
selves with  a  dozen  myriads  of  lions'-worth  or  more 
of  property  at  the  very  beginning." 

"What  was  his  name?" 

"  Graham." 

"  No  —  I  mean  —  that  American's." 

"  Isbister." 

"Isbister!"  cried  Graham.  "Why,  I  don't  even 
know  the  name." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Of  course  not. 
People  don't  learn  much  in  the  schools  nowadays. 
But  I  know  all  about  him.  He  was  a  rich  American 
who  went  from  England,  and  he  left  the  Sleeper  even 
more  than  Warming.  How  he  made  it?  That  I  don't 
know.  Something  about  pictures  by  machinery.  But 
he  made  it  and  left  it,  and  so  the  Council  had  its  start. 
It  was  just  a  council  of  trustees  at  first.'' 

"And  how  did'  it  grow?" 

"Eh!  —  but  you're  not  up  to  things.  Money 
attracts  money  —  and  twelve  brains  are  better  than 

125 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

one.  They  played  it  cleverly.  They  worked  politics 
with  money,  and  kept  on  adding  to  the  money  by 
working  currency  and  tariffs.  They  grew  —  they 
grew.  And  for  years  the  twelve  trustees  hid  the  grow- 
ing of  the  Sleeper's  estate,  under  double  names  and 
company  titles  and  all  that.  The  Council  spread  by 
title  deed,  mortgage,  share,  every  political  party, 
every  newspaper,  they  bought.  If  you  listen  to  the  old 
stories  you  \vill  see  the  Council  growing  and  growing. 
Billions  and  billions  of  lions  at  last  —  the  Sleeper's 
estate.  And  all  growing  out  of  a  whim  —  out  of  this 
Warming's  will,  and  an  accident  to  Isbister's  sons. 

"  Men  are  strange,"  said  the  old  man.  "  The  strange 
thing  to  me  is  how  the  Council  worked  together  so 
long.  As  many  as  twelve.  But  they  worked  in  cliques 
from  the  first.  And  they've  slipped  back.  In  my 
young  days  speaking  of  the  Council  was  like  an  ignor- 
ant man  speaking  of  God.  We  didn't  think  they  could 
do  wrong.  We  didn't  know  of  their  women  and  all 
that!    Or  else  I've  got  wiser. 

"  Men  are  strange,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Here  are 
you,  young  and  ignorant,  and  me  —  sevendy  years  old, 
and  I  might  reasonably  be  forgetting  —  explaining  it 
all  to  you  short  and  clear. 

"  Sevendy,"  he  said,  "  sevendy,  and  I  hear  and  see  — 
hear  better  than  I  see.  And  reason  clearly,  and  keep 
myself  up  to  all  the  happenings  of  things.    Sevendy! 

"  Life  is  strange.  I  was  twaindy  before  Ostrog  was 
a  baby.  I  remember  him  long  before  he'd  pushed  his 
way  to  the  head  of  the  Wind  Vanes  Control.  I've 
seen  many  changes.  Eh!  I've  worn  the  blue.  And  at 
last  I've  come  to  see  this  crush  and  darkness  and 

126 


THE  OLD  MAN  WHO  KNEW  EVERYTHING 

tumult  and  dead  men  carried  by  in  heaps  on  the  ways. 
And  all  his  doing!    All  his  doing!" 

His  voice  died  away  in  scarcely  articulate  praises  of 
Ostrog. 

Graham  thought.  "  Let  me  see/'  he  said,  "  if  I  have 
it  right." 

He  extended  a  hand  and  ticked  ofif  points  upon  his 
fingers.    "The  Sleeper  has  been  asleep  —  " 

"  Changed,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Perhaps.  And  meanwhile  the  Sleeper's  property 
grew  in  the  hands  of  Twelve  Trustees,  until  it 
swallowed  up  nearly  all  the  great  ownership  of  the 
world.  The  Twelve  Trustees  —  by  virtue  of  this  prop- 
erty have  become  virtually  masters  of  the  world. 
Because  they  are  the  paying  power  —  just  as  the  old 
English  Parliament  used  to  be  —  " 

"Eh!"  said  the  old  man.  "That's  so  — that's  a 
good  comparison.     You're  not  so  —  " 

"  And  now  this  Ostrog  —  has  suddenly  revolution- 
ised the  world  by  waking  the  Sleeper  —  whom  no  one 
but  the  superstitious,  common  people  had  ever  dreamt 
would  wake  again  —  raising  the  Sleeper  to  claim  his 
property  from  the  Council,  after  all  these  years." 

The  old  man  endorsed  this  statement  with  a  cough. 
"  It's  strange,"  he  said,  "  to  meet  a  man  who  learns 
these  things  for  the  first  time  tonight." 

"  Aye,"  said  Graham,  "  it's  strange." 

"Have  you  been  in  a  Pleasure  City?"  said  the  old 
man.  "  All  my  life  I've  longed  — "  He  laughed. 
"  Even  now,"  he  said,  "  I  could  enjoy  a  little  fun. 
Enjoy  seeing  things,  anyhow."  He  mumbled  a  sen- 
tence Graham  did  not  understand. 

127 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  The  Sleeper  —  when  did  he  awake?  "  said  Graham 
suddenly. 

"  Three  days  ago." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  Ostrog  has  him.  He  escaped  from  the  Council  not 
four  hours  ago.  My  dear  sir,  where  were  you  at  the 
time?  He  was  in  the  hall  of  the  markets  —  where  the 
fighting  has  been.  All  the  city  was  screaming  about 
it.  All  the  Babble  Machines.  Everywhere  it  was 
shouted.  Even  the  fools  who  speak  for  the  Council 
were  admitting  it.  Everyone  was  rushing  ofif  to  see 
him  —  everyone  was  getting  arms.  Were  you  drunk 
or  asleep?  And  even  then!  But  you're  joking! 
Surely  you're  pretending.  It  was  to  stop  the  shouting 
of  the  Babble  Machines  and  prevent  the  people  gather- 
ing that  they  turned  off  the  electricity  —  and  put  this 
damned  darkness  upon  us.    Do  you  mean  to  say  —  ?  " 

"  I  had  heard  the  Sleeper  was  rescued,"  said  Gra- 
ham. "  But  —  to  come  back  a  minute.  Are  you  sure 
Ostrog  has  him?  " 

"  He  won't  let  him  go,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  And  the  Sleeper.  Are  you  sure  he  is  not  genuine? 
I  have  never  heard  — " 

"  So  all  the  fools  think.  So  they  think.  As  if  there 
wasn't  a  thousand  things  that  were  never  heard.  I 
know  Ostrog  too  well  for  that.  Did  I  tell  you?  In 
a  way  I'm  a  sort  of  relation  of  Ostrog's.  A  sort  of 
relation.    Through  my  daughter-in-law." 

"  I  suppose  — " 

"Well?" 

"  I  suppose  there's  no  chance  of  this  Sleeper  assert- 
ing himself.    I  suppose  he's  certain  to  be  a  puppet  — 

128 


THE  OLD  MAN  WHO  KNEW  EVERYTHING 

in  Ostrog's  hands  or  the  Council's,  as  soon  as  the 
struggle  is  over." 

"  In  Ostrog's  hands  —  certainly.  Why  shouldn't  he 
be  a  puppet?  Look  at  his  position.  Everything  done 
for  him,  every  pleasure  possible.  Why  should  he  want 
to  assert  himself?  " 

"What  are  these  Pleasure  Cities?"  said  Graham, 
abruptly. 

The  old  man  made  him  repeat  the  question.  When 
at  last  he  was  assured  of  Graham's  words,  he  nudged 
him  violently.  "  That's  too  much,"  said  he.  "  You're 
poking  fun  at  an  old  man.  I've  been  suspecting  you 
know  more  than  you  pretend." 

"Perhaps  I  do,"  said  Graham.  "But  no!  why 
should  I  go  on  acting?  No,  I  do  not  know  what  a 
Pleasure  City  is." 

The  old  man  laughed  in  an  intimate  way. 

"  What  is  more,  I  do  not  know  how  to  read  your  let- 
ters, I  do  not  know  what  money  you  use,  I  do  not 
know  what  foreign  countries  there  are.  I  do  not  know 
where  I  am.  I  cannot  count.  I  do  not  know 
where  to  get  food,  nor  drink,  nor  shelter." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  old  man,  "  if  you  had  a 
glass  of  drink,  now,  would  you  put  it  in  your  ear  or 
your  eye?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all  these  things." 

"  He,  he!  Well,  gentlemen  who  dress  in  silk  must 
have  their  fun."  A  withered  hand  caressed  Graham's 
arm  for  a  moment.  "Silk.  Well,  well!  But,  all  the 
same,  I  wish  I  was  the  man  who  was  put  up  as  the 
Sleeper.  He'll  have  a  fine  time  of  it.  All  the  pomp 
and  pleasure.    He's  a  queer  looking  face.    When  they 

129  I 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

used  to  let  anyone  go  to  see  him,  I've  got  tickets  and 
been.  The  image  of  the  real  one,  as  the  photographs 
show  him,  this  substitute  used  to  be.  Yellow.  But 
he'll  get  fed  up.  It's  a  queer  world.  Think  of  the  luck 
of  it.  The  luck  of  it.  I  expect  he'll  be  sent  to  Capri. 
It's  the  best  fun  for  a  greener." 

His  cough  overtook  him  again.  Then  he  began 
mumbling  enviously  of  pleasures  and  strange  delights. 
"  The  luck  of  it,  the  luck  of  it !  All  my  life  I've  been  in 
London,  hoping  to  get  my  chance." 

"  But  you  don't  know  that  the  Sleeper  died,"  said 
Graham,  suddenly. 

The  old  man  made  him  repeat  his  words. 

"  Men  don't  live  beyond  ten  dozen.  It's  not  in  the 
order  of  things,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I'm  not  a  fool. 
Fools  may  believe  it,  but  not  me." 

Graham  became  angry  with  the  old  man's  assurance. 
"  Whether  you  are  a  fool  or  not,"  he  said,  "  it  happens 
you  are  wrong  about  the  Sleeper." 

"Eh?" 

"  You  are  wrong  about  the  Sleeper.  I  haven't  told 
you  before,  but  I  will  tell  you  now.  You  are  wrong 
about  the  Sleeper." 

"  How  do  you  know?    I  thought  you  didn't  know 

anything  —  not  even  about  Pleasure  Cities." 

Graham  paused. 

"  You  don't  know,"  said  the  old  man.  "  How  are 
you  to  know?    It's  very  few  men — " 

"  I  am  the  Sleeper." 

He  had  to  repeat  it. 

There  was  a  brief  pause.  "  There's  a  silly  thing  to 
130 


THE  OLD  MAN  WHO  KNEW  EVERYTHING 

say,  sir,  if  you'll  excuse  me.  It  might  get  you  into 
trouble  in  a  time  like  this,"  said  the  old  man. 

Graham,  slightly  dashed,  repeated  his  assertion. 

"  I  was  saying  I  was  the  Sleeper.  That  years  and 
years  ago  I  did,  indeed,  fall  asleep,  in  a  little  stone- 
built  village,  in  the  days  when  there  were  hedgerows, 
and  villages,  and  inns,  and  all  the  countryside  cut  up 
into  little  pieces,  little  fields.  Have  you  never  heard 
of  those  days?  And  it  is  I  —  I  who  speak  to  you  — 
who  awakened  again  these  four  days  since." 

"Four  days  since! — the  Sleeper!  But  they've  got 
the  Sleeper.  They  have  him  and  they  won't  let  him 
go.  Nonsense!  You've  been  talking  sensibly  enough 
up  to  now.  I  can  see  it  as  though  I  was  there.  There 
will  be  Lincoln  like  a  keeper  just  behind  him;  they 
won't  let  him  go  about  alone.  Trust  them.  You're  a 
queer  fellow.  One  of  these  fun  pokers.  I  see  now  why 
you  have  been  clipping  your  words  so  oddly,  but  — " 

He  stopped  abruptly,  and  Graham  could  see  his 
gesture. 

"  As  if  Ostrog  would  let  the  Sleeper  run  about 
alone!  No,  you're  telling  that  to  the  wrong  man  alto- 
gether. Eh!  as  if  I  should  believe.  What's  your 
game?  And  besides,  we've  been  talking  of  the 
Sleeper." 

Graham  stood  up.  "  Listen,"  he  said.  "  I  am  the 
Sleeper." 

"  You're  an  odd  man,"  said  the  old  man,  "  to  sit 
here  in  the  dark,  talking  clipped,  and  telling  a  lie  of 
that  sort.     But  — " 

Graham's  exasperation  fell  to  laughter.  "  It  is  pre- 
posterous," he  cried.      "  Preposterous.     The  dream 

131 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

must  end.  It  gets  wilder  and  wilder.  Here  am  I  —  in 
this  damned  twilight  —  I  never  knew  a  dream  in  twi- 
light before  —  an  anachronism  by  two  hundred  years 
and  trying  to  persuade  an  old  fool  that  I  am  myself, 
and  meanwhile  —    Ugh !  " 

He  moved  in  gusty  irritation  and  went  striding.  In 
a  moment  the  old  man  was  pursuing  him,  "  Eh!  but 
don't  go!"  cried  the  old  man.  "I'm  an  old  fool,  I 
know.  Don't  go.  Don't  leave  me  in  all  this  dark- 
ness." 

Graham  hesitated,  stopped.  Suddenly  the  folly  of 
telling  his  secret  flashed  into  his  mind. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  ofifend  you  —  disbelieving  you," 
said  the  old  man  coming  near.  "  It's  no  manner  of 
harm.  Call  yourself  the  Sleeper  if  it  pleases  you. 
'Tis  a  foolish  trick—" 

Graham  hesitated,  turned  abruptly  and  went  on  his 
way. 

For  a  time  he  heard  the  old  man's  hobbling  pursuit 
and  his  wheezy  cries  receding.  But  at  last  the  dark- 
ness swallowed  him,  and  Graham  saw  him  no  more. 


13a 


CHAPTER  XII 
OSTROG 

Graham  could  now  take  a  clearer  view  of  his  posi- 
tion. For  a  long  time  yet  he  wandered,  but  after  the 
talk  of  the  old  man  his  discovery  of  this  Ostrog  was 
clear  in  his  mind  as  the  final  inevitable  decision.  One 
thing  was  evident,  those  who  were  at  the  headquarters 
of  the  revolt  had  succeeded  very  admirably  in  sup- 
pressing the  fact  of  his  disappearance.  But  every 
moment  he  expected  to  hear  the  report  of  his  death 
or  of  his  recapture  by  the  Council. 

Presently  a  man  stopped  before  him.  "  Have  you 
heard?  "  he  said. 

"  No !  "  said  Graham  starting. 

"  Near  a  dozand,"  said  the  man,  "  a  dozand  men!  " 
and  hurried  on. 

A  number  of  men  and  a  girl  passed  in  the  darkness, 
gesticulating  and  shouting:  "Capitulated!  Given 
up!"  "A  dozand  of  men."  "Two  dozand  of  men." 
"Ostrog,  Hurrah!  Ostrog,  Hurrah!"  These  cries 
receded,  became  indistinct. 

Other  shouting  men  followed.  For  a  time  his  atten- 
tion was  absorbed  in  the  fragments  of  speech  he  heard. 
He  had  a  doubt  whether  all  were  speaking  English. 
Scraps  floated  to  him,  scraps  like  Pigeon  English,  like 
'  nigger  '  dialect,  blurred  and  mangled  distortions.  He 
dared    accost    no    one  with  questions.     The  impres- 

133 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

sion  the  people  gave  him  jarred  altogether  with  his 
preconceptions  of  the  struggle  and  confirmed  the  old 
man's  faith  in  Ostrog.  It  was  only  slowly  he  could 
bring  himself  to  believe  that  all  these  people  were 
rejoicing  at  the  defeat  of  the  Council,  that  the  Coun- 
cil which  had  pursued  him  with  such  power  and  vig- 
our was  after  all  the  weaker  of  the  two  sides  in  conflict. 
And  if  that  was  so,  how  did  it  affect  him?  Several 
times  he  hesitated  on  the  verge  of  fundamental  ques- 
tions. Once  he  turned  and  walked  for  a  long  way 
after  a  little  man  of  rotund  inviting  outline,  but  he 
was  unable  to  master  confidence  to  address  him. 

It  was  only  slowly  that  it  came  to  him  that  he  might 
ask  for  the  "  wind-vane  offices,"  whatever  the  "  wind- 
vane  offices "  might  be.  His  first  enquiry  simply 
resulted  in  a  direction  to  go  on  towards  Westminster. 
His  second  led  to  the  discovery  of  a  short  cut  in  which 
he  was  speedily  lost.  He  was  told  to  leave  the  ways 
to  which  he  had  hitherto  confined  himself  —  knowing 
no  other  means  of  transit  —  and  to  plunge  down  one 
of  the  middle  staircases  into  the  blackness  of  a  cross- 
way.  Thereupon  came  some  trivial  adventures;  chief 
of  these  an  ambiguous  encounter  with  a  gruff-voiced 
invisible  creature  speaking  in  a  strange  dialect  that 
seemed  at  first  a  strange  tongue,  a  thick  flow  of  speech 
with  the  drifting  corpses  of  English  words  therein, 
the  dialect  of  the  latter-day  vile.  Then  another  voice 
drew  near,  a  girl's  voice  singing,  "  tralala  tralala." 
She  spoke  to  Graham,  her  English  touched  with  some- 
thing of  the  same  quality.  She  professed  to  have  lost 
her  sister,  she  blundered  needlessly  into  him  he 
thought,  caught  hold  of  him  and  laughed.     But  a 

134 


OSTROG 

word  of  vague  remonstrance  sent  her  into  the  unseen 
again. 

The  sounds  about  him  increased.  StumbHng  people 
passed  him,  speaking  excitedly.  "  They  have  surren- 
dered!" "The  Council!  Surely  not  the  Council!" 
"  They  are  saying  so  in  the  Ways."  The  passage 
seemed  wider.  Suddenly  the  wall  fell  away.  He  was 
in  a  great  space  and  people  were  stirring  remotely. 
He  inquired  his  way  of  an  indistinct  figure.  "  Strike 
straight  across,"  said  a  woman's  voice.  He  left  his 
guiding  wall,  and  in  a  moment  had  stumbled  against 
a  little  table  on  which  were  utensils  of  glass.  Gra- 
ham's eyes,  now  attuned  to  darkness,  made  out  a 
long  vista  with  pallid  tables  on  either  side.  He  went 
down  this.  At  one  or  two  of  the  tables  he  heard  a 
clang  of  glass  and  a  sound  of  eating.  There  were  peo- 
ple then  cool  enough  to  dine,  or  daring  enough  to 
steal  a  meal  in  spite  of  social  convulsion  and  dark- 
ness. Far  off  and  high  up  he  presently  saw  a  pallid 
light  of  a  semi-circular  shape.  As  he  approached  this, 
a  black  edge  came  up  and  hid  it.  He  stumbled  at 
steps  and  found  himself  in  a  gallery.  He  heard  a 
sobbing,  and  found  two  scared  little  girls  crouched 
by  a  railing.  These  children  became  silent  at  the 
near  sound  of  feet.  He  tried  to  console  them,  but 
they  were  very  still  until  he  left  them.  Then  as  he 
receded  he  could  hear  them  sobbing  again. 

Presently  he  found  himself  at  the  foot  of  a  staircase 
and  near  a  wide  opening.  He  saw  a  dim  twilight 
above  this  and  ascended  out  of  the  blackness  into  a 
street  of  moving  Ways  again.  Along  this  a  disorderly 
swarm  of  people  marched  shouting.     They  were  sing- 

135 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

ing  snatches  of  the  song  of  the  revolt,  most  of  them 
out  of  tune.  Here  and  there  torches  flared  creating 
brief  hysterical  shadows.  He  asked  his  way  and  was 
twice  puzzled  by  that  same  thick  dialect.  His  third 
attempt  won  an  answer  he  could  understand.  He  was 
two  miles  from  the  wind-vane  offices  in  Westminster, 
but  the  way  was  easy  to  follow. 

When  at  last  he  did  approach  the  district  of  the 
wind-vane  offices  it  seemed  to  him,  from  the  cheering 
processions  that  came  marching  along  the  Ways,  from 
the  tumult  of  rejoicing,  and  finally  from  the  restoration 
of  the  lighting  of  the  city,  that  the  overthrow  of  the 
Council  must  already  be  accomplished.  And  still  no 
news  of  his  absence  came  to  his  ears. 

The  re-illumination  of  the  city  came  with  startling 
abruptness.  Suddenly  he  stood  blinking,  all  about 
him  men  halted  dazzled,  and  the  world  was  incan- 
descent. The  light  found  him  already  upon  the  out- 
skirts of  the  excited  crowds  that  choked  the  Ways  near 
the  wind-vane  offices,  and  the  sense  of  visibility  and 
exposure  that  came  with  it  turned  his  colourless  inten- 
tion of  joining  Ostrog  to  a  keen  anxiety. 

For  a  time  he  was  jostled,  obstructed,  and  endan- 
gered by  men  hoarse  and  weary  with  cheering  his 
name,  some  of  them  bandaged  and  bloody  in  his 
cause.  The  frontage  of  the  wind-vane  offices  was  illu- 
minated by  some  moving  picture,  but  what  it  was  he 
could  not  see,  because  in  spite  of  his  strenuous  attempts 
the  density  of  the  crowd  prevented  his  approaching  it. 
From  the  fragments  of  speech  he  caught,  he  judged 
it  conveyed  news  of  the  fighting  about  the  Council 
House.     Ignorance  and  indecision  made  him  slow  and 

136 


i 


OSTROG 

ineffective  in  his  movements.  For  a  time  he  could 
not  conceive  how  he  was  to  get  within  the  unbroken 
facade  of  this  place.  He  made  his  way  slowly  into 
the  midst  of  this  mass  of  people,  until  he  realised  that 
the  descending  staircase  of  the  central  Way  led  to  the 
interior  of  the  buildings.  This  gave  him  a  goal,  but 
the  crowding  in  the  central  path  was  so  dense  that  it 
was  long  before  he  could  reach  it.  And  even  then 
he  encountered  intricate  obstruction,  and  had  an  hour 
of  vivid  argument  first  in  this  guard  room  and  then 
in  that  before  he  could  get  a  note  taken  to  the  one 
man  of  all  men  who  was  most  eager  to  see  him.  His 
story  was  laughed  to  scorn  at  one  place,  and  wiser  for 
that,  when  at  last  he  reached  a  second  stairway  he  pro- 
fessed simply  to  have  news  of  extraordinary  import- 
ance for  Ostrog.  What  it  was  he  would  not  say. 
They  sent  his  note  reluctantly.  For  a  long  time  he 
waited  in  a  little  room  at  the  foot  of  the  lift  shaft,  and 
thither  at  last  came  Lincoln,  eager,  apologetic,  aston- 
ished. He  stopped  in  the  doorway  scrutinising  Gra- 
ham, then  rushed  forward  effusively. 

"  Yes,"  he  cried.  "  It  is  you.  And  you  are  not 
dead!" 

Graham  made  a  brief  explanation. 

"  My  brother  is  waiting,"  explained  Lincoln.  "  He 
is  alone  in  the  wind-vane  offices.  We  feared  you  had 
been  killed  in  the  theatre.  He  doubted  —  and  things 
are  very  urgent  still  in  spite  of  what  we  are  telling 
them  there  —  or  he  would  have  come  to  you." 

They  ascended  a  lift,  passed  along  a  narrow  passage, 
crossed  a  great  hall,  empty  save  for  two  hurrying  mes- 
sengers, and  entered  a  comparatively  little  room,  whose 

137 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

only  furniture  was  a  long"  settee  and  a  large  oval  disc 
of  cloudy,  shifting  grey,  hung  by  cables  from  the  wall. 
There  Lincoln  left  Graham  for  a  space,  and  he  re- 
mained alone  without  understanding  the  shifting 
smoky  shapes  that  drove  slowly  across  this  disc. 

His  attention  was  arrested  by  a  sound  that  began 
abruptly.  It  was  cheering,  the  frantic  cheering  of  a 
vast  but  very  remote  crowd,  a  roaring  exultation. 
This  ended  as  sharply  as  it  had  begun,  like  a  sound 
heard  between  the  opening  and  shutting  of  a  door. 
In  the  outer  room  was  a  noise  of  hurrying  steps  and 
a  melodious  clinking  as  if  a  loose  chain  was  running 
over  the  teeth  of  a  wheel. 

Then  he  heard  the  voice  of  a  woman,  the  rustle  of 
unseen  garments.  "  It  is  Ostrog!  "  he  heard  her  say. 
A  little  bell  rang  fitfully,  and  then  everything  was  still 
again. 

Presently  came  voices,  footsteps  and  movement 
without.  The  footsteps  of  some  one  person  detached 
itself  from  the  other  sounds  and  drew  near,  firm, 
evenly  measured  steps.  The  curtain  lifted  slowly.  A 
tall,  white-haired  man,  clad  in  garments  of  cream- 
coloured  silk,  appeared,  regarding  Graham  from  under 
his  raised  arm. 

For  a  moment  the  white  form  remained  holding  the 
curtain,  then  dropped  it  and  stood  before  it.  Graham's 
first  impression  was  of  a  very  broad  forehead,  very 
pale  blue  eyes  deep  sunken  under  white  brows,  an 
aquiline  nose,  and  a  heavily-lined  resolute  mouth.  The 
folds  of  flesh  over  the  eyes,  the  drooping  of  the  cor- 
ners of  the  mouth  contradicted  the  upright  bearing, 
and  said  the  man  was  old.     Graham  rose  to  his  feet 

138 


OSTROG 

instinctively,  and  for  a  moment  the  two  men  stood 
in  silence,  regarding  each  other. 

"  You  are  Ostrog?  "  said  Graham. 

"  I  am  Ostrog." 

"The  Boss?" 

"  So  I  am  called." 

Graham  felt  the  inconvenience  of  the  silence.  "  I 
have  to  thank  you  chiefly,  I  understand,  for  my  safety," 
he  said  presently. 

"  We  were  afraid  you  were  killed,"  said  Ostrog. 
"  Or  sent  to  sleep  again  —  for  ever.  We  have  been 
doing  everything  to  keep  our  secret  —  the  secret  of 
your  disappearance.  Where  have  you  been?  How 
did  you  get  here?  " 

Graham  told  him  briefly. 

Ostrog  listened  in  silence. 

He  smiled  faintly.  "  Do  you  know  what  I  was 
doing  when  they  came  to  tell  me  you  had  come?" 

"  How  can  I  guess?  " 

"  Preparing  your  double." 

"My  double?" 

"  A  man  as  like  you  as  we  could  find.  We  were 
going  to  hypnotise  him,  to  save  him  the  difficulty  of 
acting.  It  was  imperative.  The  whole  of  this  revolt 
depends  on  the  idea  that  you  are  awake,  alive,  and  with 
us.  Even  now  a  great  multitude  of  people  has  gath- 
ered in  the  theatre  clamouring  to  see  you.  They  do 
not  trust  .  .  .  You  know,  of  course  —  something 
of  your  position?" 

"  Very  little,"  said  Graham. 

"  It  is  like  this."  Ostrog  walked  a  pace  or  two 
into  the  room  and  turned.    "  You  are  absolute  owner," 

139 


V 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

he  said,  "  of  more  than  half  the  world.  As  a  result 
of  that  you  are  practically  King.  Your  powers  are 
limited  in  many  intricate  ways,  but  you  are  the  figure- 
head, the  popular  symbol  of  government.  This  White 
Council,  the  Council  of  Trustees  as  it  is  called  — " 

"  I  have  heard  the  vague  outline  of  these  things." 

"  I  wondered." 

"  I  came  upon  a  garrulous  old  man." 

"  I  see  .  .  .  Our  masses  —  the  word  comes 
from  your  days  —  you  know  of  course,  that  we  still 
have  masses  —  regard  you  as  our  actual  ruler.  Just 
as  a  great  number  of  people  in  your  days  regarded  the 
Crown  as  the  ruler.  They  are  discontented  —  the 
masses  all  over  the  earth  —  with  the  rule  of  your 
Trustees.  For  the  most  part  it  is  the  old  discontent, 
the  old  quarrel  of  the  common  man  with  his  common- 
ness —  the  misery  of  work  and  discipline  and  unfit- 
ness. But  your  Trustees  have  ruled  ill.  In  certain 
matters,  in  the  administration  of  the  Labour  Com- 
panies, for  example,  they  have  been  unwise.  They 
have  given  endless  opportunities.  Already  we  of  the 
popular  party  were  agitating  for  reforms  —  when  your 
waking  came.  Came!  If  it  had  been  contrived  it 
could  not  have  come  more  opportunely."  He  smiled. 
"  The  public  mind,  making  no  allowance  for  your 
years  of  quiescence,  had  already  hit  on  the  thought 
of  waking  you  and  appealing  to  you,  and  —  Flash!" 

He  indicated  the  outbreak  by  a  gesture,  and  Graham 
moved  his  head  to  show  that  he  understood. 

"  The  Council  muddled  —  quarrelled.  They  always 
do.  They  could  not  decide  what  to  do  with  you. 
You  know  how  they  imprisoned  you?  " 

140 


OSTROG 

"I  see.     I  see.     And  now  —  we  win?" 

"  We  win.  Indeed  we  win.  Tonight,  in  five  swift 
hours.  Suddenly  we  struck  everywhere.  The  wind- 
vane  people,  the  Labour  Company  and  its  millions, 
burst  the  bonds.     We  got  the  pull  of  the  aeropiles." 

He  paused.  "  Yes,"  said  Graham,  guessing  that 
aeropile  meant  flying  machine, 

"  That  was,  of  course,  essential.  Or  they  could 
have  got  away.  All  the  city  rose,  every  third  man 
almost  was  in  it!  All  the  blue,  all  the  public  services, 
save  only  just  a  few  aeronauts  and  about  half  the  red 
police.  You  were  rescued,  and  their  own  police  of 
the  Ways  —  not  half  of  them  could  be  massed  at  the 
Council  House  —  have  been  broken  up,  disarmed  or 
killed.  All  London  is  ours  —  now.  Only  the  Coun- 
cil House  remains. 

"  Half  of  those  who  remain  to  them  of  the  red 
police  were  lost  in  that  foolish  attempt  to  recapture 
you.  They  lost  their  heads  when  they  lost  you.  They 
flung  all  they  had  at  the  theatre.  We  cut  them  of¥ 
from  the  Council  House  there.  Truly  tonight  has 
been  a  night  of  victory.  Everywhere  your  star  has 
blazed.  A  day  ago  —  the  White  Council  ruled  as  it 
has  ruled  for  a  gross  of  years,  for  a  century  and  a  half 
of  years,  and  then,  with  only  a  little  whispering,  a 
covert  arming  here  and  there,  suddenly  —  So!  " 

"  I  am  very  ignorant,"  said  Graham.  "  I  sup- 
pose— .  I  do  not  clearly  understand  the  conditions 
of  this  fighting.  If  you  could  explain.  Where  is  the 
Council?     Where  is  the  fight?" 

Ostrog  stepped  across  the  room,  something  clicked, 
141 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

and  suddenly,  save  for  an  oval  glow,  they  were  in 
darkness.     For  a  moment  Graham  was  puzzled. 

Then  he  saw  that  the  cloudy  grey  disc  had  taken 
depth  and  colour,  had  assumed  the  appearance  of  an 
oval  window  looking  out  upon  a  strange  unfamiliar 
scene. 

At  the  first  glance  he  was  unable  to  guess  what  this 
scene  might  be.  It  was  a  daylight  scene,  the  daylight 
of  a  wintry  day,  grey  and  clear.  Across  the  picture 
and  halfway  as  it  seemed  between  him  and  the  remoter 
view,  a  stout  cable  of  twisted  white  wire  stretched 
vertically.  Then  he  perceived  that  the  rows  of  great 
wind-wheels  he  saw,  the  wide  intervals,  the  occasional 
gulfs  of  darkness,  were  akin  to  those  through  which 
he  had  fled  from  the  Council  House.  He  distinguished 
an  orderly  file  of  red  figures  marching  across  an  open 
space  between  files  of  men  in  black,  and  realised  before 
Ostrog  spoke  that  he  was  looking  down  on  the  upper 
surface  of  latter-day  London.  The  overnight  snows 
had  gone.  He  judged  that  this  mirror  was  some  mod- 
ern replacement  of  the  camera  obscura,  but  that 
matter  was  not  explained  to  him.  He  saw  that  though 
the  file  of  red  figures  was  trotting  from  left  to  right, 
yet  they  were  passing  out  of  the  picture  to  the  left. 
He  wondered  momentarily,  and  then  saw  that  the 
picture  was  passing  slowly,  panorama  fashion,  across 
the  oval. 

"  In  a  moment  you  will  see  the  fighting,"  said 
Ostrog  at  his  elbow.  "  Those  fellows  in  red  you 
notice  are  prisoners.  This  is,  the  roof  space  of  Lon- 
don —  all  the  houses  are  practically  continuous  now, 

142 


OSTROG 

The  streets  and  public  squares  are  covered  in.  The 
gaps  and  chasms  of  your  time  have  disappeared." 

Something  out  of  focus  obHterated  half  the  picture. 
Its  form  suggested  a  man.  There  was  a  gleam  of 
metal,  a  flash,  something  that  swept  across  the  oval, 
as  the  eyelid  of  a  bird  sweeps  across  its  eye,  and  the 
picture  was  clear  again.  And  now  Graham  beheld 
men  running  down  among  the  wind-wheels,  pointing 
weapons  from  which  jetted  out  little  smoky  flashes. 
iThey  swarmed  thicker  and  thicker  to  the  right,  ges- 
ticulating—  it  might  be  they  were  shouting,  but  of 
that  the  picture  told  nothing.  They  and  the  wind- 
wheels  passed  slowly  and  steadily  across  the  field  of 
the  mirror. 

"  Now,"  said  Ostrog,  "  comes  the  Council  House," 
and  slowly  a  black  edge  crept  into  view  and  gathered 
Graham's  attention.  Soon  it  was  no  longer  an  edge 
but  a  cavity,  a  huge  blackened  space  amidst  the  clus- 
tering edifices,  and  from  it  thin  spires  of  smoke  rose 
into  the  pallid  winter  sky.  Gaunt  ruinous  masses  of 
the  building,  mighty  truncated  piers  and  girders,  rose 
dismally  out  of  this  cavernous  darkness.  And  over 
these  vestiges  of  some  splendid  place,  countless  min- 
ute men  were  clambering,  leaping,  swarming. 

"  This  is  the  Council  House,"  said  Ostrog.  "  Their 
last  stronghold.  And  the  fools  wasted  enough  ammu- 
nition to  hold  out  for  a  month  in  blowing  up  the 
buildings  all  about  them  —  to  stop  our  attack.  You 
heard  the  smash?  It  shattered  half  the  brittle  glass 
in  the  city." 

And  while  he  spoke,  Graham  saw  that  beyond  this 
area  of  ruins,  overhanging  it  and  rising  to  a  great 

143 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

height,  was  a  ragged  mass  of  white  building.  This 
mass  had  been  isolated  by  the  ruthless  destruction  of 
its  surroundings.  Black  gaps  marked  the  passages 
the  disaster  had  torn  apart;  big  halls  had  been  slashed 
open  and  the  decoration  of  their  interiors  showed  dis- 
mally in  the  wintry  dawn,  and  down  the  jagged  walls 
hung  festoons  of  divided  cables  and  twisted  ends  of 
lines  and  metallic  rods.  And  amidst  all  the  vast 
details  moved  little  red  specks,  the  red-clothed  defend- 
ers of  the  Council.  Every  now  and  then  faint  flashes 
illuminated  the  bleak  shadows.  At  the  first  sight  it 
seemed  to  Graham  that  an  attack  upon  this  isolated 
white  building  was  in  progress,  but  then  he  perceived 
that  the  party  of  the  revolt  was  not  advancing,  but 
sheltered  amidst  the  colossal  wreckage  that  encircled 
this  last  ragged  stronghold  of  the  red-garbed  men,  was 
keeping  up  a  fitful  firing. 

And  not  ten  hours  ago  he  had  stood  beneath  the 
ventilating  fans  in  a  little  chamber  within  that  remote 
building  wondering  what  was  happening  in  the  world! 

Looking  more  attentively  as  this  warlike  episode 
moved  silently  across  the  centre  of  the  mirror,  Gra- 
ham saw  that  the  white  building  was  surrounded  on 
every  side  by  ruins,  and  Ostrog  proceeded  to  describe 
in  concise  phrases  how  its  defenders  had  sought  by 
such  destruction  to  isolate  themselves  from  a  storm. 
He  spoke  of  the  loss  of  men  that  huge  downfall  had 
entailed  in  an  indiflferent  tone.  He  indicated  an  im- 
provised mortuary  among  the  wreckage,  showed 
ambulances  swarming  like  cheese-mites  along  a  ruin- 
ous groove  that  had  once  been  a  street  of  moving  ways. 
He  was  more  interested  in  pointing  out  the  parts  o{ 

144 


OSTROG 

the  Council  House,  the  distribution  of  the  besiegers. 
In  a  httle  while  the  civil  contest  that  had  convulsed 
London  was  no  longer  a  mystery  to  Graham.  It  was 
no  tumultuous  revolt  had  occurred  that  night,  no 
equal  warfare,  but  a  splendidly  organised  coup  d'etat. 
Ostrog's  grasp  of  details  was  astonishing;  he  seemed 
to  know  the  business  of  even  the  smallest  knot  of 
black  and  red  specks  that  crawled  amidst  these  places. 

He  stretched  a  huge  black  arm  across  the  luminous 
picture,  and  showed  the  room  whence  Graham  had 
escaped,  and  across  the  chasm  of  ruins  the  course  of 
his  flight.  Graham  recognised  the  gulf  across  which 
the  gutter  ran,  and  the  wind-wheels  where  he  had 
crouched  from  the  flying  machine.  The  rest  of  his 
path  had  succumbed  to  the  explosion.  He  looked 
again  at  the  Council  House,  and  it  was  already  half 
hidden,  and  on  the  right  a  hillside  with  a  cluster  of 
domes  and  pinnacles,  hazy,  dim  and  distant,  was 
gliding  into  view. 

"And  the  Council  is  really  overthrown?"  he  said. 

"  Overthrown,"  said  Ostrog. 

"  And  I  — .     Is  it  indeed  true  that  I  — ?  " 

"  You  are  Master  of  the  World." 

"  But  that  white  flag  — " 

"  That  is  the  flag  of  the  Council  —  the  flag  of  the 
Rule  of  the  World.  It  will  fall.  The  fight  is  over. 
Their  attack  on  the  theatre  was  their  last  frantic  strug- 
gle. They  have  only  a  thousand  men  or  so,  and  some 
of  these  men  will  be  disloyal.  They  have  little  ammu- 
nition. And  we  are  reviving  the  ancient  arts.  We  are 
casting  guns." 

"But  — help.     Is  this  city  the  world?" 

145  K 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  Practically  this  is  all  they  have  left  to  them  of 
their  empire.  Abroad  the  cities  have  either  revolted 
with  us  or  wait  the  issue.  Your  awakening  has  per- 
plexed them,  paralysed  them." 

"  But  haven't  the  Council  flying  machines?  Why 
is  there  no  fighting  with  them?  " 

"  They  had.  But  the  greater  part  of  the  aeronauts 
were  in  the  revolt  with  us.  They  wouldn't  take  the 
risk  of  fighting  on  our  side,  but  they  would  not  stir 
against  us.  We  had  to  get  a  pull  with  the  aeronauts. 
Quite  half  were  with  us,  and  the  others  knew  it. 
Directly  they  knew  you  had  got  away,  those  looking 
for  you  dropped.  We  killed  the  man  who  shot  at 
you  —  an  hour  ago.  And  we  occupied  the  flying 
stages  at  the  outset  in  every  city  we  could,  and  so 
stopped  and  captured  the  aeroplanes,  and  as  for  the 
little  flying  machines  that  turned  out  —  for  some  did  — 
we  kept  up  too  straight  and  steady  a  fire  for  them  to 
get  near  the  Council  House.  If  they  dropped  they 
couldn't  rise  again,  because  there's  no  clear  space 
about  there  for  them  to  get  up.  Several  we  have 
smashed,  several  others  have  dropped  and  surrendered, 
the  rest  have  gone  off  to  the  Continent  to  find  a 
friendly  city  if  they  can  before  their  fuel  runs  out. 
^lost  of  these  men  were  only  too  glad  to  be  taken  pris- 
oner and  kept  out  of  harm's  way.  Upsetting  in  a  fly- 
ing machine  isn't  a  very  attractive  prospect.  There's 
no  chance  for  the  Council  that  way.  Its  days  are 
done." 

He  laughed  and  turned  to  the  oval  reflection  again 
to  show  Graham  what  he  meant  by  flying  stages. 
Even  the  four  nearer  ones  were  remote  and  obscured 

146 


OSTROG 

by  a  thin  morning-  haze.  But  Graham  could  perceive 
they  were  very  vast  structures,  judged  even  by  the 
standard  of  the  things  about  them. 

And  then  as  these  dim  shapes  passed  to  the  left 
there  came  again  the  sight  of  the  expanse  across  which 
the  disarmed  men  in  red  had  been  marching.  And 
then  the  black  ruins,  and  then  again  the  beleaguered 
white  fastness  of  the  Council.  It  appeared  no  longer 
a  ghostly  pile,  but  glowing  amber  in  the  sunlight,  for 
a  cloud  shadow  had  passed.  About  it  the  pigmy 
struggle  still  hung  in  suspense,  but  now  the  red  defend- 
ers were  no  longer  firing. 

So,  in  a  dusky  stillness,  the  man  from  the  nine- 
teenth century  saw  the  closing  scene  of  the  great 
revolt,  the  forcible  establishment  of  his  rule.  With  a 
quality  of  startling  discovery  it  came  to  him  that  this 
was  his  world,  and  not  that  other  he  had  left  behind; 
that  this  was  no  spectacle  to  culminate  and  cease;  that 
in  this  world  lay  whatever  life  was  still  before  him,  lay 
all  his  duties  and  dangers  and  responsibilities.  He 
turned  with  fresh  questions.  Ostrog  began  to  answer 
them,  and  then  broke  off  abruptly.  "  But  these  things 
I  must  explain  more  fully  later.  At  present  there  are 
—  duties.  The  people  are  coming  by  the  moving 
ways  towards  this  ward  from  every  part  of  the  city  — 
the  markets  and  theatres  are  densely  crowded.  You 
are  just  in  time  for  them.  They  are  clamouring  to 
see  you.  And  abroad  they  want  to  see  you.  Paris, 
New  York,  Chicago,  Denver,  Capri  —  thousands  of 
cities  are  up  and  in  a  tumult,  undecided,  and  clamour- 
ing to  see  you.     They  have  clamoured  that  you  should 

147 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

be  awakened  for  years,  and  now  it  is  done  they  will 
scarcely  believe  — " 

"  But  surely  —  I  can't  go     .     .     ." 

Ostrog  answered  from  the  other  side  of  the  room, 
and  the  picture  on  the  oval  disc  paled  and  vanished 
as  the  light  jerked  back  again.  "  There  are  kineto- 
tele-photographs,"  he  said.  "  As  you  bow  to  the  peo- 
ple here  —  all  over  the  world  myriads  of  myriads  of 
people,  packed  and  still  in  darkened  halls,  will  see  you 
also.  In  black  and  white,  of  course  —  not  like  this. 
And  you  will  hear  their  shouts  reinforcing  the  shouting 
in  the  hall. 

"  And  there  is  an  optical  contrivance  we  shall  use," 
said  Ostrog,  "  used  by  some  of  the  posturers  and 
women  dancers.  It  may  be  novel  to  you.  You  stand 
in  a  very  bright  light,  and  they  see  not  you  but  a 
magnified  image  of  you  thrown  on  a  screen  —  so  that 
even  the  furtherest  man  in  the  remotest  gallery  can, 
if  he  chooses,  count  your  eyelashes." 

Graham  clutched  desperately  at  one  of  the  questions 
in  his  mind.  "What  is  the  population  of  London?" 
he  said. 

"  Eight  and  twaindy  myriads." 

"  Eight  and  what?  " 

"  More  than  thirty-three  millions." 

These  figures  went  beyond  Graham's  imagination. 

"  You  will  be  expected  to  say  something,"  said 
Ostrog.  "  Not  what  you  used  to  call  a  Speech,  but 
what  our  people  call  a  Word  —  just  one  sentence,  six 
or  seven  words.  Something  formal.  If  I  might  sug- 
gest —  *  I  have  awakened  and  my  heart  is  with  you.' 
That  is  the  sort  of  thing  they  want." 

148 


OSTROG 

"  What  was  that?  "  asked  Graham. 

"  '  I  am  awakened  and  my  heart  is  with  you.'  And 
bow  —  bow  royally.  But  first  we  must  get  you  black 
robes  —  for  black  is  your  colour.  Do  you  mind? 
And  then  they  will  disperse  to  their  homes." 

Graham  hesitated.     "  I  am  in  your  hands,"  he  said. 

Ostrog  was  clearly  of  that  opinion.  He  thought 
for  a  moment,  turned  to  the  curtain  and  called  brief 
directions  to  some  unseen  attendants.  Almost  imme- 
diately a  black  robe,  the  very  fellow  of  the  black  robe 
Graham  had  worn  in  the  theatre,  was  brought.  And 
as  he  threw  it  about  his  shoulders  there  came  from 
the  room  without  the  shrilling  of  a  high-pitched  bell. 
Ostrog  turned  in  interrogation  to  the  attendant,  then 
suddenly  seemed  to  change  his  mind,  pulled  the  cur- 
tain aside  and  disappeared. 

For  a  moment  Graham  stood  with  the  deferential 
attendant  Hstening  to  Ostrog's  retreating  steps. 
There  was  a  sound  of  quick  question  and  answer  and 
of  men  running.  The  curtain  was  snatched  back  and 
Ostrog  reappeared,  his  massive  face  glowing  with 
excitement.  He  crossed  the  room  in  a  stride,  clicked 
the  room  into  darkness,  gripped  Graham's  arm  and 
pointed  to  the  mirror. 

"  Even  as  we  turned  away,"  he  said. 

Graham  saw  his  index  finger,  black  and  colossal, 
above  the  mirrored  Council  House.  For  a  moment 
he  did  not  understand.  And  then  he  perceived  that 
the  flagstaff  that  had  carried  the  white  banner  was 
bare. 

"  Do  you  mean  — ?  "  he  began. 
149 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  The  Council  has  surrendered.  Its  rule  is  at  an 
end  for  evermore." 

"  Look!  "  and  Ostrog  pointed  to  a  coil  of  black  that 
crept  in  little  jerks  up  the  vacant  flagstaff,  unfolding 
as  it  rose. 

The  oval  picture  paled  as  Lincoln  pulled  *he  curtain 
aside  and  entered. 

"  They  are  clamourous,"  he  said. 

Ostrog  kept  his  grip  of  Graham's  arm. 

"  We  have  raised  the  people,"  he  said.  "  We  have 
given  them  arms.  For  today  at  least  their  wishes 
must  be  law." 

Lincoln  held  the  Curtain  open  for  Graham  and 
Ostrog  to  pass  through.     .     .     . 

On  his  way  to  the  markets  Graham  had  a  transitory 
glance  of  a  long  narrow  white-walled  room  in  which 
men  in  the  universal  blue  canvas  were  carrying  cov- 
ered things  like  biers,  and  about  which  men  in  medical 
purple  hurried  to  and  fro.  From  this  room  came 
groans  and  wailing.  He  had  an  impression  of  an 
empty  blood-stained  couch,  of  men  on  other  couches, 
bandaged  and  blood-stained.  It  was  just  a  glimpse 
from  a  railed  footway  and  then  a  buttress  hid  the  place 
and  they  were  going  on  towards  the  markets.     .     .     . 

The  roar  of  the  multitude  was  near  now :  it  leapt  to 
thunder.  And,  arresting  his  attention,  a  fluttering  of 
black  banners,  the  waving  of  blue  canvas  and  brown 
rags,  and  the  swarming  vastness  of  the  theatre  near 
the  public  markets  came  into  view  down  a  long  pas- 
sage. The  picture  opened  out.  He  perceived  they 
were  entering  the  great  theatre  of  his  first  appearance, 
the  great  theatre  he  had  last  seen  as  a  chequer-work 

150 


OSTROG 

of  glare  and  blackness  in  his  flight  from  the  red  police. 
This  time  he  entered  it  along  a  gallery  at  a  level  high 
above  the  stage.  The  place  was  now  brilliantly 
lit  again.  He  sought  the  gangway  up  which  he  had 
fled,  but  he  could  not  tell  it  from  among  its  dozens  of 
fellows;  nor  could  he  see  anything  of  the  smashed 
seats,  deflated  cushions,  and  such  like  traces  of 
the  fight  because  of  the  density  of  the  people.  Except 
the  stage  the  whole  place  was  closely  packed.  Look- 
ing down  the  effect  was  a  vast  area  of  stippled  pink, 
each  dot  a  still  upturned  face  regarding  him.  At  his 
appearance  with  Ostrog  the  cheering  died  away,  the 
singing  died  away,  a  common  interest  stilled  and  uni- 
fied the  disorder.  It  seemed  as  though  every  indi- 
vidual of  those  myriads  was  watching  him. 


151 


CHAPTER  XIII 
THE  END  OF  THE  OLD  ORDER 

So  far  as  Graham  v/as  able  to  judge,  it  was  near 
midday  when  the  white  banner  of  the  Council  fell. 
But  some  hours  had  to  elapse  before  it  was  possible 
to  effect  the  formal  capitulation,  and  so  after  he  had 
spoken  his  "  Word  "  he  retired  to  his  new  apartments 
in  the  wind-vane  offices.  The  continuous  excitement 
of  the  last  twelve  hours  had  left  him  inordinately 
fatigued,  even  his  curiosity  was  exhausted ;  for  a  space 
he  sat  inert  and  passive  with  open  eyes,  and  for  a  space 
he  slept.  He  was  roused  by  two  medical  attendants, 
come  prepared  with  stimulants  to  sustain  him  through 
the  next  occasion.  After  he  had  taken  their  drugs 
and  bathed  by  their  advice  in  cold  water,  he  felt  a 
rapid  return  of  interest  and  energy,  and  was  presently 
able  and  willing  to  accompany  Ostrog  through  several 
miles  (as  it  seemed)  of  passages,  lifts,  and  slides  to  the 
closing  scene  of  the  White  Council's  rule. 

The  way  ran  deviously  through  a  maze  of  buildings. 
They  came  at  last  to  a  passage  that  curved  about,  and 
showed  broadening  before  him  an  oblong  opening, 
clouds  hot  with  sunset,  and  the  ragged  skyline  of  the 
ruinous  Council  House.  A  tumult  of  shouts  came 
drifting  up  to  him.  In  another  moment  they  had  come 
out  high  up  on  the  brow  of  the  cliff  of  torn  buildings 
that  overhung  the  wreckage.     The  vast  area  opened 

152 


"  Broken  masses  of  metal  projected  dismally  from  the  complex  wreckage,  vast 
masses  of  twisted  cable  dropped  like  tangled  seaweed.  .  .  .  All  about  this  great 
white  pile  was  a  rin^  of  desolation." — Page  153. 


THE  END  OF  THE  OLD  ORDER 

to  Graham's  eyes,  none  the  less  strange  and  wonderful 
for  the  remote  view  he  had  had  of  it  in  the  oval  mirror. 

This  rudely  amphitheatral  space  seemed  now  the 
better  part  of  a  mile  to  its  outer  edge.  It  was  gold 
lit  on  the  left  hand,  catching  the  sunlight,  and  below 
and  to  the  right  clear  and  cold  in  the  shadow.  Above 
the  shadowy  grey  Council  House  that  stood  in  the 
midst  of  it,  the  great  black  banner  of  the  surrender 
still  hung  in  sluggish  folds  against  the  blazing  sunset. 
Severed  rooms,  halls  and  passages  gaped  strangely, 
broken  masses  of  metal  projected  dismally  from  the 
complex  wreckage,  vast  masses  of  twisted  cable 
dropped  like  tangled  seaweed,  and  from  its  base  came 
a  tumult  of  innumerable  voices,  violent  concussions, 
and  the  sound  of  trumpets.  All  about  this  great  white 
pile  was  a  ring  of  desolation;  the  smashed  and  black- 
ened masses,  the  gaunt  foundations  and  ruinous  lum- 
ber of  the  fabric  that  had  been  destroyed  by  the  Coun- 
cil's orders,  skeletons  of  girders,  Titanic  masses  of  wall, 
forests  of  stout  pillars.  Amongst  the  sombre  wreck- 
age beneath,  running  water  flashed  and  glistened,  and 
far  away  across  the  space,  out  of  the  midst  of  a  vague 
vast  mass  of  buildings,  there  thrust  the  twisted  end  of 
a  water-main,  two  hundred  feet  in  the  air,  thunder- 
ously spouting  a  shining  cascade.  And  everywhere 
great  multitudes  of  people. 

Wherever  there  was  space  and  foothold,  people 
swarmed,  little  people,  small  and  minutely  clear,  except 
where  the  sunset  touched  them  to  indistinguishable 
gold.  They  clambered  up  the  tottering  walls,  they 
clung  in  wreaths  and  groups  about  the  high-standing 
pillars.     They  swarmed  along  the  edges  of  the  circle 

153 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

of  ruins.     The  air  was  full  of  their  shouting,  and  they 
were  pressing  and  swaying  towards  the  central  space. 

The  upper  storeys  of  the  Council  House  seemed 
deserted,  not  a  human  being  was  visible.  Only  the 
drooping  banner  of  the  surrender  hung  heavily  against 
the  light.  The  dead  were  within  the  Council  House, 
or  hidden  by  the  swarming  people,  or  carried  away. 
Graham  could  see  only  a  few  neglected  bodies  in  gaps 
and  corners  of  the  ruins,  and  amidst  the  flowing  water. 

"Will  you  let  them  see  you,  Sire?"  said  Ostrog. 
"  They  are  very  anxious  to  see  you." 

Graham  hesitated,  and  then  walked  forward  to 
where  the  broken  verge  of  wall  dropped  sheer.  He 
stood  looking  down,  a  lonely,  tall,  black  figure  against 
the  sky. 

Very  slowly  the  swarming  ruins  became  aware  of 
him.  And  as  they  did  so  little  bands  of  black-uni- 
formed men  appeared  remotely,  thrusting  through  the 
crowds  towards  the  Council  House.  He  saw  little 
black  heads  become  pink,  looking  at  him,  saw  by  that 
means  a  wave  of  recognition  sweep  across  the  space. 
It  occurred  to  him  that  he  should  accord  them  some 
recognition.  He  held  up  his  arm,  then  pointed  to  the 
Council  House  and  dropped  his  hand.  The  voices 
below  became  unanimous,  gathered  volume,  came  up 
to  him  as  multitudinous  wavelets  of  cheering. 

The  western  sky  was  a  pallid  bluish  green,  and 
Jupiter  shone  high  in  the  south,  before  the  capitulation 
was  accomphshed.  Above  was  a  slow  insensible 
change,  the  advance  of  night  serene  and  beautiful; 
below  was  hurry,  excitement,  conflicting  orders, 
pauses,  spasmodic  developments  of  organisation,  a 

154 


THE  END  OP  THE  OLD  ORDER 

vast  ascending  clamour  and  confusion.  Before  the 
Council  came  out,  toiling  perspiring  men,  directed  by 
a  conflict  of  shouts,  carried  forth  hundreds  of  those 
who  had  perished  in  the  hand-to-hand  conflict  within 
those  long  passages  and  chambers.     .     .     . 

Guards  in  black  lined  the  way  that  the  Council 
would  come,  and  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  into  the 
hazy  blue  twilight  of  the  ruins,  and  swarming  now  at 
every  possible  point  in  the  captured  Council  House 
and  along  the  shattered  cliff  of  its  circumadjacent 
buildings,  were  innumerable  people,  and  their  voices 
even  when  they  were  not  cheering,  were  as  the  sough- 
ing of  the  sea  upon  a  pebble  beach.  Ostrog  had 
chosen  a  huge  commanding  pile  ol  crushed  and  over- 
thrown masonry,  and  on  this  a  stage  of  timbers  and 
metal  girders  was  being  hastily  constructed.  Its 
essential  parts  were  complete,  but  humming  and 
clangorous  machinery  still  glared  fitfully  in  the 
shadows  beneath  this  temporary  edifice. 

The  stage  had  a  small  higher  portion  on  which  Gra- 
ham stood  with  Ostrog  and  Lincoln  close  beside  him, 
a  little  in  advance  of  a  group  of  minor  officers.  A 
broader  lower  stage  surrounded  this  quarter  deck,  and 
on  this  were  the  black-uniformed  guards  of  the  revolt 
armed  with  the  little  green  weapons  whose  very  names 
Graham  still  did  not  know.  Those  standing  about 
him  perceived  that  his  eyes  wandered  perpetually  from 
the  swarming  people  in  the  twilight  ruins  about  him 
to  the  darkling  mass  of  the  White  Council  House, 
whence  the  Trustees  would  presently  come,  and  to 
the  gaunt  cliffs  of  ruin  that  encircled  him,  and  so  back 

155 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

to  the  people.     The  voices  of  the  crowd  swelled  to  a 
deafening  tumult. 

He  saw  the  Councillors  first  afar  off  in  the  glare  of 
one  of  the  temporary  lights  that  marked  their  path, 
a  little  group  of  w^hite  figures  blinking  in  a  black  arch- 
way. In  the  Council  House  they  had  been  in  dark- 
ness. He  watched  them  approaching,  drawing  nearer 
past  first  this  blazing  electric  star  and  then  that;  the 
minatory  roar  of  the  crowd  over  whom  their  power 
had  lasted  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  marched  along 
beside  them.  As  they  drew  still  nearer  their  faces 
came  out  weary,  white  and  anxious.  He  saw 
them  blinking  up  through  the  glare  about  him  and 
Ostrog.  He  contrasted  their  strange  cold  looks  in  the 
Hall  of  Atlas,  .  .  .  Presently  he  could  recognise 
several  of  them ;  the  man  who  had  rapped  the  table  at 
Howard,  a  burly  man  with  a  red  beard,  and  one  deli- 
cate-featured, short,  dark  man  with  a  peculiarly  long 
skull.  He  noted  that  tv/o  w'ere  whispering  together 
and  looking  behind  him  at  Ostrog,  Next  there  came 
a  tall,  dark  and  handsome  man,  walking  downcast. 
Abruptly  he  glanced  up,  his  eyes  touched  Graham  for 
a  moment,  and  passed  beyond  him  to  Ostrog.  The 
way  that  had  been  made  for  them  was  so  contrived  that 
they  had  to  march  past  and  curve  about  before  they 
came  to  the  sloping  path  of  planks  that  ascended  to 
the  stage  where  their  surrender  was  to  be  made. 

"The  Master,  the  Master!  God  and  the  Master," 
shouted  the  people,  "To  hell  with  the  Council!" 
Graham  looked  at  their  multitudes,  receding  beyond 
counting  into  a  shouting  haze,  and  then  at  Ostrog 
beside  him,  white  and  steadfast  and  still.     His  eye 

156 


THE  END  OF  THE  OLD  ORDER 

went  again  to  the  little  group  of  White  Councillors. 
And  then  he  looked  up  at  the  familiar  quiet  stars  over- 
head. The  marvellous  element  in  his  fate  was  sud- 
denly vivid.  Could  that  be  his  indeed,  that  little  life 
in  his  memory  two  hundred  years  gone  by  —  and  this 
as  well? 


157 


CHAPTER  XIV 
FROM  THE  crow's  NEST 

And  so  after  strange  delays  and  through  an  avenue 
of  doubt  and  battle,  this  man  from  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury came  at  last  to  his  position  at  the  head  of  that 
complex  world. 

At  first  when  he  rose  from  the  long  deep  sleep  that 
followed  his  rescue  and  the  surrender  of  the  Council, 
he  did  not  recognise  his  surroundings.  By  an  effort 
he  gained  a  clue  in  his  mind,  and  all  that  had  hap- 
pened came  back  to  him,  at  first  with  a  quality  of 
insincerity  like  a  story  heard,  like  something  read  out 
of  a  book.  And  even  before  his  memories  were  clear, 
the  exultation  of  his  escape,  the  wonder  of  his  promi- 
nence were  back  in  his  mind.  He  was  owner  of  half 
the  world;  Master  of  the  Earth.  This  new  great  age 
was  in  the  completest  sense  his.  He  no  longer  hoped 
to  discover  his  experiences  a  dream ;  he  became  anx- 
ious now  to  convince  himself  that  they  were  real. 

An  obsequious  valet  assisted  him  to  dress  under  the 
direction  of  a  dignified  chief  attendant,  a  little  man 
whose  face  proclaimed  him  Japanese,  albeit  he  spoke 
English  like  an  Englishman.  From  the  latter  he 
learnt  something  of  the  state  of  affairs.  Already  the 
revolution  was  an  accepted  fact;  already  business  was 
being  resumed  throughout  the  city.  Abroad  the 
downfall  of  the  Council  had  been  received  for  the  most 

158 


FROM  THE  CROW'S  NEST 

part  with  delight.  Nowhere  was  the  Council  popular, 
and  the  thousand  cities  of  Western  America,  after  two 
hundred  years  still  jealous  of  New  York,  London,  and 
the  East,  had  risen  almost  unanimously  two  days 
before  at  the  news  of  Graham's  imprisonment.  Paris 
was  fighting  within  itself.  The  rest  of  the  world  hung 
in  suspense. 

While  he  was  breaking  his  fast,  the  sound  of  a  tele- 
phone bell  jetted  from  a  corner,  and  his  chief  attend- 
ant called  his  attention  to  the  voice  of  Ostrog  making 
polite  enquiries.  Graham  interrupted  his  refreshment 
to  reply.  Very  shortly  Lincoln  arrived,  and  Graham 
at  once  expressed  a  strong  desire  to  talk  to  people  and 
to  be  shown  more  of  the  new  life  that  was  opening 
before  him.  Lincoln  informed  him  that  in  three  hours' 
time  a  representative  gathering  of  officials  and  their 
wives  would  be  held  in  the  state  apartments  of  the 
wind-vane  Chief.  Graham's  desire  to  traverse  the 
ways  of  the  city  was,  however,  at  present  impossible, 
because  of  the  enormous  excitement  of  the  people. 
It  was,  however,  quite  possible  for  him  to  take  a  bird's-  ^  -^>. 
eye  view  of  the  city  from  the  crow's  nest  of  the  wind- 
vane  keeper.  To  this  accordingly  Graham  was  con- 
ducted by  his  attendant.  Lincoln,  with  a  graceful 
compliment  to  the  attendant,  apologised  for  not 
accompanying  them,  on  account  of  the  present  pres- 
sure of  administrative  work. 

Higher  even  than  the  most  gigantic  wind-wheels 
hung  this  crow's  nest,  a  clear  thousand  feet  above  the 
roofs,  a  little  disc-shaped  speck  on  a  spear  of  metallic 
filigree,  cable  stayed.  To  its  summit  Graham  was 
drawn  in  a  little  wire-hung  cradle.     Halfway  down 

159 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

the  frail-seeming  stem  was  a  light  gallery  about  which 
hung  a  cluster  of  tubes  —  minute  they  looked  from 
above  —  rotating  slowly  on  the  ring  of  its  outer  rail. 
These  were  the  specula,  en  rapport  with  the  wind-vane 
keeper's  mirrors,  in  one  of  which  Ostrog  had  shown 
him  the  coming  of  his  rule.  His  Japanese  attendant 
ascended  before  him  and  they  spent  nearly  an  hour 
asking  and  answering  questions. 

It  was  a  day  full  of  the  promise  and  quality  of 
spring.  The  touch  of  the  wind  warmed.  The  sky 
was  an  intense  blue  and  the  vast  expanse  of  London 
shone  dazzling  under  the  morning  sun.  The  air  was 
clear  of  smoke  and  haze,  sweet  as  the  air  of  a  mountain 
glen. 

Save  for  the  irregular  oval  of  ruins  about  the  House 
of  the  Council  and  the  black  flag  of  the  surrender  that  I 
fluttered  there,  the  mighty  city  seen  from  above 
showed  few  signs  of  the  swift  revolution  that  had,  to 
his  imagination,  in  one  night  and  one  day,  changed 
the  destinies  of  the  world.  A  multitude  of  people  still 
swarmed  over  these  ruins,  and  the  huge  openwork 
stagings  in  the  distance  from  which  started  in  times  of 
peace  the  service  of  aeroplanes  to  the  various  great 
cities  of  Europe  and  America,  were  also  black  with 
the  victors.  Across  a  narrow  way  of  planking  raised 
on  trestles  that  crossed  the  ruins  a  crowd  of  workmen 
were  busy  restoring  the  connection  between  the  cables 
and  wires  of  the  Council  House  and  the  rest  of  the 
city,  preparatory  to  the  transfer  thither  of  Ostrog's 
headquarters  from  the  Wind-Vane  buildings. 

For  the  rest  the  luminous  expanse  was  undisturbed. 
So  vast  was  its  serenity  in  comparison  with  the  areas 

i6o 


FROM  THE  CROW'S  NEST 

of  disturbance,  that  presently  Graham,  looking  beyond 
them,  could  almost  forg-et  the  thousands  of  men  lying 
out  of  sight  in  the  artificial  glare  within  the  quasi-sub- 
terranean labyrinth,  dead  or  dying  of  the  overnight 
wounds,  forget  the  improvised  wards  with  the  hosts  of 
surgeons,  nurses,  and  bearers  feverishly  busy,  forget, 
indeed,  all  the  wonder,  consternation  and  novelty 
under  the  electric  lights.  Down  there  in  the  hidden 
ways  of  the  anthill  he  knew  that  the  revolution  tri- 
umphed, that  black  everywhere  carried  the  day,  black 
favours,  black  banners,  black  festoons  across  the 
streets.  And  out  here,  under  the  fresh  sunlight, 
beyond  the  crater  of  the  fight,  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened to  the  earth,  the  forest  of  Wind  Vanes  that  had 
grown  from  one  or  two  while  the  Council  had  ruled, 
roared  peacefully  upon  their  incessant  duty. 

Far  away,  spiked,  jagged  and  indented  by  the  wind 
vanes,  the  Surrey  Hills  rose  blue  and  faint;  to  the 
north  and  nearer,  the  sharp  contours  of  Highgate  and 
Muswell  Hill  were  similarly  jagged.  And  all  over  the 
countryside,  he  knew,  on  every  crest  and  hill,  where 
once  the  hedges  had  interlaced,  and  cottages,  churches, 
inns,  and  farmhouses  had  nestled  among  their  trees, 
wind  wheels  similar  to  those  he  saw  and  bearing  like 
them  vast  advertisements,  gaunt  and  distinctive  sym- 
bols of  the  new  age,  cast  their  whirling  shadows  and 
stored  incessantly  the  energy  that  flowed  away  inces- 
santly through  all  the  arteries  of  the  city.  And  under- 
neath these  wandered  the  countless  flocks  and  herds 
of  the  British  Food  Trust  with  their  lonely  guards  and 
keepers. 

Not  a  familiar  outline  anywhere  broke  the  cluster 
i6i  L 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

of  gigantic  shapes  below.  St.  Paul's  he  knew  sur- 
vived, and  many  of  the  old  buildings  in  Westminster, 
embedded  out  of  sight,  arched  over  and  covered  in 
among  the  giant  growths  of  this  great  age.  The 
Thames,  too,  made  no  fall  and  gleam  of  silver 
to  break  the  wilderness  of  the  city;  the  thirsty 
water  mains  drank  up  every  drop  of  its  waters 
before  they  reached  the  walls.  Its  bed  and  estuary, 
scoured  and  sunken,  was  now  a  canal  of  sea  water 
and  a  race  of  grimy  bargemen  brought  the  heavy 
materials  of  trade  from  the  Pool  thereby  beneath  the 
very  feet  of  the  workers.  Faint  and  dim  in  the  east- 
ward between  earth  and  sky  hung  the  clustering  masts 
of  the  colossal  shipping  in  the  Pool.  For  all  the 
heavy  traffic,  for  which  there  was  no  need  of  haste, 
came  in  gigantic  sailing  ships  from  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  and  the  heavy  goods  for  which  there  was 
urgency  in  mechanical  ships  of  a  smaller  swifter  sort. 
And  to  the  south  over  the  hills,  came  vast  aqueducts 
with  sea  water  for  the  sewers  and  in  three  separate 
directions,  ran  pallid  lines  —  the  roads,  stippled  with 
moving  grey  specks.  On  the  first  occasion  that  oflfered 
he  was  determined  to  go  out  and  see  these  roads. 
That  would  come  after  the  flying  ship  he  was  presently 
to  try.  His  attendant  officer  described  them  as  a  pair 
of  gently  curving  surfaces  a  hundred  yards  wide,  each 
one  for  the  traffic  going  in  one  direction,  and  made  of 
a  substance  called  Eadhamite  —  an  artificial  substance,, 
so  far  as  he  could  gather,  resembling  toughened  glass. 
Along  this  shot  a  strange  traffic  of  narrow  rubber-shod 
vehicles,  great  single  wheels,  two  and  four  wheeled 
vehicles,  sweeping  along  at  velocities  of  from  one  to 

162 


PROM  THE  CROW'S  NEST 

six  miles  a  minute.  Railroads  had  vanished;  a  few 
embankments  remained  as  rust-crowned  trenches  here 
and  there.  Some  few  formed  the  cores  of  Eadhamite 
ways. 

Among  the  first  things  to  strike  his  attention  had 
been  the  great  fleets  of  advertisement  balloons  and 
kites  that  receded  in  irregular  vistas  northward  and 
southward  along  the  lines  of  the  aeroplane  journeys. 
No  aeroplanes  were  to  be  seen.  Their  passages  had 
ceased,  and  only  one  little-seeming  seropile  circled 
high  in  the  blue  distance  above  the  Surrey  Hills,  an 
unimpressive  soaring  speck. 

A  thing  Graham  had  already  learnt,  and  which  he 
found  very  hard  to  imagine,  was  that  nearly  all  the 
towns  in  the  country,  and  almost  all  the  villages,  had 
disappeared.  Here  and  there  only,  he  understood, 
some  gigantic  hotel-like  edifice  stood  amid  square 
miles  of  some  single  cultivation  and  preserved  the 
name  of  a  town  —  as  Bournemouth,  Wareham,  or 
Swanage.  Yet  the  officer  had  speedily  convinced  him 
how  inevitable  such  a  change  had  been.  The  old 
order  had  dotted  the  country  with  farmhouses,  and 
every  two  or  three  miles  was  the  ruling  landlord's 
estate,  and  the  place  of  the  inn  and  cobbler,  the  gro- 
cer's shop  and  church  —  the  village.  Every  eight 
miles  or  so  was  the  country  town,  where  lawyer,  corn 
merchant,  wool-stapler,  saddler,  veterinary  surgeon, 
doctor,  draper,  milliner  and  so  forth  lived.  Every 
eight  miles  —  simply  because  that  eight  mile  market- 
ing journey,  four  there  and  back,  was  as  much  as  was 
comfortable  for  the  farmer.  But  directly  the  railways 
came  into  play,  and  after  them  the  light  railways,  and 

163 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

all  the  swift  new  motor  cars  that  had  replaced  waggons 
and  horses,  and  so  soon  as  the  high  roads  began  to 
be  made  of  wood,  and  rubber,  and  Eadhamite,  and 
all  sorts  of  elastic  durable  substances  —  the  necessity 
of  having  such  frequent  market  towns  disappeared. 
And  the  big  towns  grew.  They  drew  the  worker  with 
the  gravitational  force  of  seemingly  endless  work,  the 
employer  with  their  suggestions  of  an  infinite  ocean  of 
labour. 

And  as  the  standard  of  comfort  rose,  as  the  com- 
plexity of  the  mechanism  of  living  increased,  life  in 
the  country  had  become  more  and  more  costly,  or 
narrow  and  impossible.  The  disappearance  of  vicar 
and  squire,  the  extinction  of  the  general  practitioner 
by  the  city  speciahst,  had  robbed  the  village  of  its  last 
touch  of  culture.  After  telephone,  kinematograph 
and  phonograph  had  replaced  newspaper,  book, 
schoolmaster,  and  letter,  to  live  outside  the  range  of 
the  electric  cables  was  to  live  an  isolated  savage.  In 
the  country  were  neither  means  of  being  clothed  nor 
fed  (according  to  the  refined  conceptions  of  the  time), 
no  efficient  doctors  for  an  emergency,  no  company 
and  no  pursuits. 

Moreover,  mechanical  appliances  in  agriculture 
made  one  engineer  the  equivalent  of  thirty  labourers. 
So,  inverting  the  condition  of  the  city  clerk  in  the 
days  when  London  was  scarce  inhabitable  because  of 
the  coaly  foulness  of  its  air,  the  labourers  now  came 
hurrying  by  road  or  air  to  the  city  and  its  life  and 
delights  at  night  to  leave  it  again  in  the  morning. 
The  city  had  swallowed  up  humanity ;  man  had  entered 
upon  a  new  stage  in  his  development.     First  had  come 

164 


FROM  THE  CROW'S  NEST 

the  nomad,  the  hunter,  then  had  followed  the  agricul- 
turist of  the  agricultural  state,  whose  towns  and  cities 
and  ports  were  but  the  headquarters  and  markets  of 
the  countryside.  And  now,  logical  consequence  of 
an  epoch  of  invention,  was  this  huge  new  aggregation 
of  men.  Save  London,  there  were  only  four  other 
cities  in  Britain  —  Edinburgh,  Portsmouth,  Manches- 
ter and  Shrewsbury.  Such  things  as  these,  simple 
statements  of  fact  though  they  were  to  contemporary 
men,  strained  Graham's  imagination  to  picture.  And 
when  he  glanced  "  over  beyond  there  "  at  the  strange 
things  that  existed  on  the  Continent,  it  failed  him 
altogether. 

He  had  a  vision  of  city  beyond  city,  cities  on  great 
plains,  cities  beside  great  rivers,  vast  cities  along  the 
sea  margin,  cities  girdled  by  snowy  mountains.  Over' 
a  great  part  of  the  earth  the  English  tongue  was 
spoken;  taken  together  with  its  Spanish  American  and 
Hindoo  and  Negro  and  "  Pidgin  "  dialects,  it  was  the 
everyday  language  of  two-thirds  of  the  people  of  the 
earth.  On  the  Continent,  save  as  remote  and  curious 
survivals,  three  other  languages  alone  held  sway  — 
German,  which  reached  to  Antioch  and  Genoa  and 
jostled  Spanish-English  at  Cadiz,  a  Gallicised  Russian 
which  met  the  Indian  English  in  Persia  and  Kurdistan 
and  the  "  Pidgin  "  English  in  Pekin,  and  French  still 
clear  and  brilliant,  the  language  of  lucidity,  which 
shared  the  Mediterranean  with  the  Indian  English  and 
German  and  reached  through  a  negro  dialect  to  the 
Congo. 

And  everywhere  now,  through  the  city-set  earth, 
save  in  the  administered  "  black  belt "  territories  of 

i6S 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

the  tropics,  the  same  cosmopolitan  social  organisation 
prevailed,  and  everywhere  from  Pole  to  Equator  his 
property  and  his  responsibilities  extended.  The  whole 
world  was  civilised;  the  whole  world  dwelt  in  cities; 
the  whole  world  was  property.  Over  the  British 
Empire  and  throughout  America  his  ownership  was 
scarcely  disguised.  Congress  and  Parliament  were 
usually  regarded  as  antique,  curious  gatherings.  And 
even  in  the  two  Empires  of  Russia  and  Germany,  the 
influence  of  his  wealth  was  conceivably  of  enormous 
weight.  There,  of  course,  came  problems  —  possibili- 
ties, but,  uplifted  as  he  was,  even  Russia  and  Germany 
seemed  sufficiently  remote.  And  of  the  quality  of  the 
black  belt  administration,  and  of  what  that  might  mean 
for  him  he  thought,  after  the  fashion  of  his  former 
days,  not  at  all.  Tliat  it  should  hang  like  a  threat  over 
the  spacious  vision  before  him  could  not  enter  his  nine- 
teenth century  mind.  But  his  mind  turned  at  once 
from  the  scenery  to  the  thought  of  a  vanished  dread. 
"  What  of  the  yellow  peril? "  he  asked  and  Asano  made 
him  explain.  The  Chinese  spectre  had  vanished. 
Chinaman  and  European  were  at  peace.  The  twentieth 
century  had  discovered  with  reluctant  certainty  that 
the  average  Chinaman  was  as  civilised,  more  moral, 
and  far  more  intelligent  than  the  average  European 
serf,  and  had  repeated  on  a  gigantic  scale  the  fraterni- 
sation of  Scot  and  Englishman  that  happened  in  the 
seventeenth  century.  As  Asano  put  it;  "They  thought 
it  over.  They  found  we  were  white  men  after  all." 
Graham  turned  again  to  the  view  and  his  thoughts 
took  a  new  direction. 

Out  of  the  dim  south-west,  glittering  and  strange, 
i66 


FROM  THE  CROW'S  NEST 

voluptuous,  and  in  some  way  terrible,  shone  those 
Pleasure  Cities,  of  which  the  kinematograph-pho- 
nograph  and  the  old  man  in  the  street  had  spoken. 
Strange  places  reminiscent  of  the  legendary  Sybaris, 
cities  of  art  and  beauty,  mercenary  art  and  mercenary 
beauty,  sterile  wonderful  cities  of  motion  and  music, 
whither  repaired  all  who  profited  by  the  fierce,  inglori- 
ous, economic  struggle  that  went  on  in  the  glaring 
labyrinth  below. 

Fierce  he  knew  it  was.  How!  fierce  he  could  judge 
from  the  fact  that  these  latter-day  people  referred  back 
to  the  England  of  the  nineteenth  century  as  the  figure 
of  an  idyllic  easy-going  life.  He  turned  his  eyes  to 
the  scene  immediately  before  him  again,  trying  to 
conceive  the  big  factories  of  that  intricate  maze. 

Northward  he  knew  were  the  potters,  makers  not 
only  of  earthenware  and  china,  but  of  the  kindred 
pastes  and  compounds  a  subtler  mineralogical  chem- 
istry had  devised;  there  were  the  makers  of  statuettes 
and  wall  ornaments  and  much  intricate  furniture; 
there  too  were  the  factories  where  feverishly  competi- 
tive authors  devised  their  phonograph  discourses  and 
advertisements  and  arranged  the  groupings  and 
developments  for  their  perpetually  startling  and  novel 
kinematographic  dramatic  works.  Thence,  too,  flashed 
the  world-wide  messages,  the  world-wide  falsehoods  of 
the  news-tellers,  the  chargers  of  the  telephonic 
machines  that  had  replaced  the  newspapers  of  the  past. 

To  the  westward  beyond  the  smashed  Council 
House  were  the  voluminous  ofBces  of  municipal  con- 
trol and  government;  and  to  the  eastward,  towards 
the  port,  the  trading  quarters,  the  huge  public  markets, 

167 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

the  theatres,  houses  of  resort,  betting  palaces,  miles  of 
billiard  saloons,  baseball  and  football  circuses,  wild 
beast  rings  and  the  innumerable  temples  of  the  Chris- 
tian and  quasi-Christian  sects,  the  Mahomedans, 
Buddhists,  Gnostics,  Spook  Worshippers,  the  Incubus 
Worshippers,  the  Furniture  Worshippers,  and  so 
forth;  and  to  the  south  again  a  vast  manufacture  of 
textiles,  pickles,  wines  and  condiments.  And  from 
point  to  point  tore  the  countless  multitudes  along  the 
roaring  mechanical  ways.  A  gigantic  hive,  of  which 
the  winds  were  tireless  servants,  and  the  ceaseless 
wind-vanes  an  appropriate  crown  and  symbol. 

He  thought  of  the  unprecedented  population  that 
had  been  sucked  up  by  this  sponge  of  halls  and  gal- 
leries —  the  thirty-three  million  lives  that  were  play- 
ing out  each  its  own  brief  ineffectual  drama  below 
him,  and  the  complacency  that  the  brightness  of  the 
day  and  the  space  and  splendour  of  the  view,  and  above 
all  the  sense  of  his  own  importance  had  begotten, 
dwindled  and  perished.  Looking  down  from  this 
height  over  the  city  it  became  at  last  possible  to  con- 
ceive this  overwhelming  multitude  of  thirty-three  mil- 
lions, the  reaUty  of  the  responsibility  he  would  take 
upon  himself,  the  vastness  of  the  human  Maelstrom 
over  which  his  slender  kingship  hung. 

He  tried  to  figure  the  individual  life.  It  astonished 
him  to  realise  how  little  the  common  man  had  changed 
in  spite  of  the  visible  change  in  his  conditions.  Life 
and  property,  indeed,  were  secure  from  violence  almost 
all  over  the  world,  zymotic  diseases,  bacterial  diseases 
of  all  sorts  had  practically  vanished,  everyone  had  a 
sufficiency  of  food  and  clothing,  was  warmed  in  the 

168 


FROM  THE  CROW'S  NEST 

city  ways  and  sheltered  from  the  weather  —  so  much 
the  almost  mechanical  progress  of  science  and  the 
physical  organisation  of  society  had  accomplished. 
But  the  crowd,  he  was  already  beginning  to  discover, 
was  a  crowd  still,  helpless  in  the  hands  of  demagogue 
and  organiser,  individually  cowardly,  individually 
swayed  by  appetite,  collectively  incalculable.  The 
memory  of  countless  figures  in  pale  blue  canvas  came 
before  his  mind.  Millions  of  such  men  and  women 
below  him,  he  knew,  had  never  been  out  of  the  city, 
had  never  seen  beyond  the  little  round  of  unintelligent 
grudging  participation  in  the  world's  business,  and 
unintelligent  dissatisfied  sharing  in  its  tawdrier  pleas- 
ures. He  thought  of  the  hopes  of  his  vanished  con- 
temporaries, and  for  a  moment  the  dream  of  London 
in  Morris's  quaint  old  News  from  Nowhere,  and  the 
perfect  land  of  Hudson's  beautiful  Crystal  Age  ap- 
peared before  him  in  an  atmosphere  of  infinite  loss. 
He  thought  of  his  own  hopes. 

For  in  the  latter  days  of  that  passionate  life  that  lay 
now  so  far  behind  him,  the  conception  of  a  free  and 
equal  manhood  had  become  a  very  real  thing  to  him. 
He  had  hoped,  as  indeed  his  age  had  hoped,  rashly 
taking  it  for  granted,  that  the  sacrifice  of  the  many 
to  the  few  would  some  day  cease,  that  a  day  was  near 
when  every  child  born  of  woman  should  have  a  fair 
and  assured  chance  of  happiness.  And  here,  after  two 
hundred  years,  the  same  hope,  still  unfulfilled,  cried 
passionately  through  the  city.  After  two  hundred 
years,  he  knew,  greater  than  ever,  grown  with  the  city 
to  gigantic  proportions,  were  poverty  and  helpless 
labour  and  all  tlie  sorrows  of  his  time. 

169 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Already  he  knew  something-  of  the  history  of  the 
intervening  years.  He  had  heard  now  of  the  moral 
decay  that  had  followed  the  collapse  of  supernatural 
religion  in  the  minds  of  ignoble  man,  the  decline  of 
public  honour,  the  ascendency  of  wealth.  For  men 
who  had  lost  their  belief  in  God  had  still  kept  their 
faith  in  property,  and  wealth  ruled  a  venial  world. 

His  Japanese  attendant,  Asano,  in  expounding  the 
political  history  of  the  intervening  two  centuries,  drew 
an  apt  image  from  a  seed  eaten  by  insect  parasites. 
First  there  is  the  original  seed,  ripening  vigorously 
enough.  And  then  comes  some  insect  and  lays  an  egg 
under  the  skin,  and  behold!  in  a  little  while  the  seed 
is  a  hollow  shape  with  an  active  grub  inside  that  has 
eaten  out  its  substance.  And  then  comes  some  sec- 
ondary parasite,  some  ichneumon  fly,  and  lays  an  egg 
within  this  grub,  and  behold!  that,  too,  is  a  hollow 
shape,  and  the  new  living  thing  is  inside  its  predeces- 
sor's skin  which  itself  is  snug  within  the  seed  coat. 
And  the  seed  coat  still  keeps  its  shape,  most  people 
think  it  a  seed  still,  and  for  all  one  knows  it  may  still 
think  itself  a  seed,  vigorous  and  alive.  "  Your  Vic- 
torian kingdom,"  said  Asano,  "  was  like  that  —  king- 
ship with  the  heart  eaten  out."  The  landowners  — 
the  barons  and  gentry  —  began  ages  ago  with  King 
John;  there  were  lapses,  but  they  beheaded  King 
Charles,  and  ended  practically  with  King  George,  a 
mere  husk  of  a  king  .  .  .  the  real  power  in  the 
hands  of  their  parliament.  But  the  Parliament  —  the 
organ  of  the  land-holding  tenant-ruling  gentry  —  did 
not  keep  its  power  long.  The  change  had  already 
come  in  the  nineteenth  century.    The  franchises  had 

170 


FROM  THE  CROW'S  NEST 

been  broadened  until  it  included  masses  of  ignorant 
men,  "  urban  myriads,"  who  went  in  their  featureless 
thousands  to  vote  together.  And  the  natural  conse- 
quence of  a  swarming  constituency  is  the  rule  of  the 
party  organisation.  Power  was  passing  even  in  the 
Victorian  time  to  the  party  machinery,  secret,  com- 
plex, and  corrupt.  Very  speedily  power  was  in  the 
hands  of  great  men  of  business  who  financed  the 
machines.  A  time  came  when  the  real  power  and 
interest  of  the  Empire  rested  visibly  between  the  two 
party  councils,  ruling  by  newspapers  and  electoral 
organisations  —  two  small  groups  of  rich  and  able 
men,  working  at  first  in  opposition,  then  presently 
together. 

There  was  a  reaction  of  a  genteel  ineffectual  sort. 
There  were  numberless  books  in  existence,  Asano  said, 
to  prove  that  —  the  publication  of  some  of  them  was 
as  early  as  Graham's  sleep  —  a  whole  literature  of 
reaction  in  fact.  The  party  of  the  reaction  seems  to 
have  locked  itself  into  its  study  and  rebelled  with 
unflinching  determination  —  on  paper.  The  urgent 
necessity  of  either  capturing  or  depriving  the  party 
councils  of  power  is  a  common  suggestion  underlying 
all  the  thoughtful  work  of  the  early  twentieth  century, 
both  in  America  and  England.  In  most  of  these 
things  America  was  a  little  earlier  than  England, 
though  both  countries  drove  the  same  way. 

That  counter-revolution  never  came.  It  could 
never  organise  and  keep  pure.  There  was  not  enough 
of  the  old  sentimentality,  the  old  faith  in  righteous- 
ness, left  among  men.  Any  organisation  that  became 
big  enough  to  influence  the  polls  became  complex 

171 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

enough  to  be  undermined,  broken  up,  or  bought  out- 
right by  capable  rich  men.  Socialistic  and  Popular, 
Reactionary  and  Purity  Parties  were  all  at  last  mere 
Stock  Exchange  counters,  selling  their  principles  to 
pay  for  their  electioneering.  And  the  great  concern 
of  the  rich  was  naturally  to  keep  property  intact,  the 
board  clear  for  the  game  of  trade.  Just  as  the  feudal 
concern  had  been  to  keep  the  board  clear  for  hunting 
and  war.  The  whole  world  was  exploited,  a  battle- 
field of  businesses;  and  financial  convulsions,  the 
scourge  of  currency  manipulation,  tariff  wars,  made 
more  human  misery  during  the  twentieth  century  — 
because  the  wretchedness  was  dreary  life  instead  of 
speedy  death  —  than  had  war,  pestilence  and  famine,  in 
the  darkest  hours  of  earlier  history. 

His  own  part  in  the  development  of  this  time  he 
now  knew  clearly  enough.  Through  the  successive 
phases  in  the  development  of  this  mechanical  civilisa- 
tion, aiding  and  presently  directing  its  development, 
there  had  grown  a  new  power,  the  Council,  the  board 
of  his  trustees.  At  first  it  had  been  a  mere  chance 
union  of  the  millions  of  Isbister  and  Warming,  a 
mere  property  holding  company,  the  creation  of  two 
childless  testators'  whims,  but  the  collective  talent  of 
its  first  constitution  had  speedily  guided  it  to  a  vast 
influence,  until  by  title  deed,  loan  and  share,  under  a 
hundred  disguises  and  pseudonyms  it  had  ramified 
through  the  fabric  of  the  American  and  English 
States. 

Wielding  an  enormous  influence  and  patronage,  the 
Council  had  early  assumed  a  political  aspect;  and  in 
its  development  it  had  continually  used  its  wealth  to 

172 


FROM  THE  CROW'S  NEST 

tip  the  beam  of  political  decisions  and  its  political 
advantages  to  grasp  yet  more  and  more  wealth.  At 
last  the  party  organisations  of  two  hemispheres  were 
in  its  hands;  it  became  an  inner  council  of  political 
control.  Its  last  struggle  was  with  the  tacit  alliance 
of  the  great  Jewish  families.  But  these  families  were 
linked  only  by  a  feeble  sentiment,  at  any  time  inherit- 
ance might  fling  a  huge  fragment  of  their  resources  to 
a  minor,  a  woman  or  a  fool,  marriages  and  legacies 
alienated  hundreds  of  thousands  at  one  blow.  The 
Council  had  no  such  breach  in  its  continuity.  Stead- 
ily, steadfastly  it  grew. 

The  original  Council  was  not  simply  twelve  men  of 
exceptional  ability;  they  fused,  it  was  a  council  of 
genius.  It  struck  boldly  for  riches,  for  political  influ- 
ence, and  the  two  subserved  each  other.  With  amaz- 
ing foresight  it  spent  great  sums  of  money  on  the 
art  of  flying,  holding  that  invention  back  against  an 
hour  foreseen.  It  used  the  patent  laws,  and  a  thou- 
sand half-legal  expedients,  to  hamper  all  investigators 
who  refused  to  work  with  it.  In  the  old  days  it  never 
missed  a  capable  man.  It  paid  his  price.  Its  policy 
in  those  days  was  vigorous  —  unerring,  and  against  it 
as  it  grew  steadily  and  incessantly  was  only  the  chaotic 
selfish  rule  of  the  casually  rich.  In  a  hundred  years 
Graham  had  become  almost  exclusive  owner  of 
Africa,  of  South  America,  of  France,  of  London,  of 
England  and  all  its  influence  —  for  all  practical  pur- 
poses, that  is  —  a  power  in  North  America  —  then  the 
dominant  power  in  America.  The  Council  bought 
and  organised  China,  drilled  Asia,  crippled  the  Old 

173 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

World  empires,  undermined  them  financially,  fought 
and  defeated  them. 

And  this  spreading  usurpation  of  the  world  was  so 
dexterously  performed — a  proteus — hundreds  of 
banks,  companies,  syndicates,  masked  the  Council's 
operations — that  it  was  already  far  advanced  before 
common  men  suspected  the  tyranny  that  had  come. 
The  Council  never  hesitated,  never  faltered.  Means  of 
communication,  land,  buildings,  governments,  munici- 
palities, the  territorial  companies  of  the  tropics,  every 
human  enterprise,  it  gathered  greedily.  And  it  drilled 
and  marshalled  its  men,  its  railway  police,  its  roadway 
police,  its  house  guards,  and  drain  and  cable  guards, 
its  hosts  of  land-workers.  Their  unions  it  did  not 
fight,  but  it  undermined  and  betrayed  and  bought 
them.  It  bought  the  world  at  last.  And,  finally,  its 
culminating  stroke  was  the  introduction  of  flying. 

When  the  Council,  in  conflict  with  the  workers  in 
some  of  its  huge  monopolies,  did  something  flagrantly 
illegal  and  that  without  even  the  ordinary  civility  of 
bribery,  the  old  Law,  alarmed  for  the  profits  of  its 
complaisance,  looked  about  it  for  weapons.  But  there 
were  no  more  armies,  no  fighting  navies;  the  age  of 
Peace  had  come.  The  only  possible  war  ships  were 
the  great  steam  vessels  of  the  Council's  Navigation 
Trust.  The  police  forces  they  controlled;  the  police  of 
the  railways,  of  the  ships,  of  their  agricultural  estates, 
their  time-keepers  and  order-keepers,  outnumbered 
the  neglected  little  forces  of  the  old  country  and  muni- 
cipal organisations  ten  to  one.  And  they  produced 
flying  machines.  There  were  men  alive  still  who  could 
remember  the  last  great  debate  in  the  London  House 

174 


FROM  THE  CROW'S  NEST 

of  Commons — the  legal  party,  the  party  against  the 
Council  was  in  a  minority,  but  it  made  a  desperate 
fight — and  how  the  members  came  crowding  out  upon 
the  terrace  to  see  these  great  unfamiliar  winged 
shapes  circling  quietly  overhead.  The  Council  had 
soared  to  its  power.  The  last  sham  of  a  democracy 
that  had  permitted  unlimited  irresponsible  property 
was  at  an  end. 

Within  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  of  Graham's  fall- 
ing asleep,  his  Council  had  thrown  off  its  disguises  and 
ruled  openly,  supreme  in  his  name.  Elections  had 
become  a  cheerful  formality,  a  septennial  folly,  an 
ancient  unmeaning  custom;  a  social  Parliament  as 
ineffectual  as  the  convocation  of  the  Established 
Church  in  Victorian  times  assembled  now  and  then; 
and  a  legitimate  King  of  England,  disinherited, 
drunkesi  and  witless,  played  foolishly  in  a  second-rate 
music-hall.  So  the  magnificent  dream  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  the  noble  project  of  universal  indi- 
vidual liberty  and  universal  happiness,  touched  by  a 
disease  of  honour,  crippled  by  a  superstition  of  abso- 
lute property,  crippled  by  the  religious  feuds  that  had 
robbed  the  common  citizens  of  education,  robbed  men 
of  standards  of  conduct,  and  brought  the  sanctions 
of  morality  to  utter  contempt,  had  worked  itself 
out  in  the  face  of  invention  and  ignoble  enter- 
prise, first  to  a  warring  plutocracy,  and  finally  to  the 
rule  of  a  supreme  plutocrat.  His  Council  at  last  had 
ceased  even  to  trouble  to  have  its  decrees  endorsed  by 
the  constitutional  authorities,  and  he  a  motionless, 
sunken,  yellow-skinned  figure  had  lain,  neither  dead 
nor  living,  recognisably  and  immediately  Master  of  the 

175 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Earth.  And  awoke  at  last  to  find  himself — Master  of 
that  inheritance!  Awoke  to  stand  under  the  cloudless 
empty  sky  and  gaze  down  upon  the  greatness  of  his 
dominion. 

To  what  end  had  he  awakened?  Was  this  city,  this 
hive  of  hopeless  toilers,  the  final  refutation  of  his 
ancient  hopes?  Or  was  the  fire  of  liberty,  the  fire  that 
had  blazed  and  waned  in  the  years  of  his  past  life,  still 
smouldering  below  there?  He  thought  of  the  stir  and 
impulse  of  the  song  of  the  revolution.  Was  that  song 
merely  the  trick  of  a  demagogue,  to  be  forgotten  when 
its  purpose  was  served?  Was  the  hope  that  still  stirred 
within  him  only  the  memory  of  abandoned  things,  the 
vestige  of  a  creed  outworn?  Or  had  it  a  wider  mean- 
ing, an  import  interwoven  with  the  destiny  of  man? 
To  what  end  had  he  awakened,  what  was  there  for  him 
to  do?  Humanity  was  spread  below  him  like  a  map. 
He  thought  of  the  millions  and  millions  of  humanity 
following  each  other  unceasingly  for  ever  out  of  the 
darkness  of  non-existence  into  the  darkness  of  death. 
To  what  end?  Aim  there  must  be,  but  it  transcended 
his  power  of  thought.  He  saw  for  the  first  time  clearly 
his  own  infinite  littleness,  saw  stark  and  terrible  the 
tragic  contrast  of  human  strength  and  the  craving  of 
the  human  heart.  For  that  little  while  he  knew  himself 
for  the  petty  accident  he  was,  and  knew  therewith  the 
greatness  of  his  desire.  And  suddenly  his  littleness 
was  intolerable,  his  aspiration  was  intolerable,  and 
there  came  to  him  an  irresistible  impulse  to  pray.  And 
he  prayed.  He  prayed  vague,  incoherent,  contradic- 
tory things,  his  soul  strained  up  through  time  and 
space  and  all  the  fleeting  multitudinous  confusion  of 

176 


FROM  THE  CROW'S  NEST 

being,  towards  something — he  scarcely  knew  what — 
towards  something  that  could  comprehend  his  striving 
and  endure. 

A  man  and  a  woman  were  far  below  on  a  roof  space 
to  the  southward  enjoying  the  freshness  of  the  morn- 
ing air.  The  man  had  brought  out  a  perspective  glass 
to  spy  upon  the  Council  House  and  he  was  showing 
her  how  to  use  it.  Presently  their  curiosity  was  sat- 
isfied, they  could  see  no  traces  of  bloodshed  from  their 
position,  and  after  a  survey  of  the  empty  sky  she  came 
round  to  the  crow's  nest.  And  there  she  saw  two  little 
black  figures,  so  small  it  was  hard  to  believe  they  were 
men,  one  who  watched  and  one  who  gesticulated  with 
hands  outstretched  to  the  silent  emptiness  of  Heaven. 

She  handed  the  glass  to  the  man.  He  looked  and 
exclaimed: 

"  I  believe  it  is  the  Master.  Yes.  I  am  sure.  It  is 
the  Master!" 

He  lowered  the  glass  and  looked  at  her.  "  Waving 
his  hands  about  almost  as  if  he  was  praying.  I  wonder 
what  he  is  up  to.  Worshipping  the  sun?  There 
weren't  Parsees  in  this  country  in  his  time,  were 
there?" 

He  looked  again.  "  He's  stopped  it  now.  It  was  a 
chance  attitude,  I  suppose."  He  put  down  the  glass 
and  became  meditative.  "He  won't  have  anything  to 
do  but  enjoy  himself — just  enjoy  himself.  Ostrog  will 
boss  the  show  of  course.  Ostrog  will  have  to,  because 
of  keeping  all  these  Labourer  fools  in  bounds.  Them 
and  their  song!  And  got  it  all  by  sleeping,  dear  eyes 
— ^just  sleeping.    It's  a  wonderful  world." 

177  M 


CHAPTER  XV 

PROMINENT  PEOPLE 

The  state  apartments  of  the  Wind  Vane  Keeper 
would  have  seemed  astonishingly  intricate  to  Graham 
had  he  entered  them  fresh  from  his  nineteenth  century 
life,  but  already  he  was  growing  accustomed  to  the  scale 
of  the  new  time.  They  can  scarcely  be  described  as 
halls  and  rooms,  seeing  that  a  complicated  system  of 
arches,  bridges,  passages  and  galleries  divided  and 
united  every  part  of  the  great  space.  He  came  out 
through  one  of  the  now  familiar  sliding  panels  upon  a 
plateau  of  landing  at  the  head  of  a  flight  of  very  broad 
and  gentle  steps,  with  men  and  women  far  more 
brilliantly  dressed  than  any  he  had  hitherto  seen 
ascending  and  descending.  From  this  position  he 
looked  down  a  vista  of  intricate  ornament  in  lustreless 
white  and  mauve  and  purple,  spanned  by  bridges  that 
seemed  wrought  of  porcelain  and  filigree,  and  termin- 
ating far  off  in  a  cloudy  mystery  of  perforated  screens. 

Glancing  upward,  he  saw  tier  above  tier  of  ascend- 
ing galleries  with  faces  looking  down  upon  him.  The 
air  was  full  of  the  babble  of  innumerable  voices  and  of 
a  music  that  descended  from  above,  a  gay  and  exhila- 
rating music  whose  source  he  never  discovered. 

The  central  aisle  was  thick  with  people,  but  by  no 
means  uncomfortably  crowded;  altogether  that  assem- 
bly must  have  numbered  many  thousands.    They  were 

178 


PROMINENT  PEOPLE 

brilliantly,  even  fantastically  dressed,  the  men  as  fanci- 
fully as  the  women,  for  the  sobering  influence  of  the 
Puritan  conception  of  dignity  upon  masculine  dress 
had  long  since  passed  away.  The  hair  of  the  men,  too, 
though  it  was  rarely  worn  long,  was  commonly  curled 
in  a  manner  that  suggested  the  barber,  and  baldness 
had  vanished  from  the  earth.  Frizzy  straight-cut 
masses  that  would  have  charmed  Rossetti  abounded, 
and  one  gentleman,  who  was  pointed  out  to  Graham 
under  the  mysterious  title  of  an  "  amorist",  wore  his 
hair  in  two  becoming  plaits  a  la  Marguerite.  The 
pigtail  was  in  evidence;  it  would  seem  that  citizens  of 
Chinese  extraction  were  no  longer  ashamed  of  their 
race.  There  was  little  uniformity  of  fashion  apparent 
in  the  forms  of  clothing  worn.  The  more  shapely 
men  displayed  their  symmetry  in  trunk  hose,  and 
here  were  pufifs  and  slashes,  and  there  a  cloak 
and  there  a  robe.  The  fashions  of  the  days  of 
Leo  the  Tenth  were  perhaps  the  prevailing  influ- 
ence, but  the  aesthetic  conceptions  of  the  far  east 
were  also  patent.  Masculine  embonpoint,  which, 
in  Victorian  times,  would  have  been  subjected  to  the 
tightly  buttoned  perils,  the  ruthless  exaggeration  of 
tight-legged  tight-armed  evening  dress,  now  formed 
but  the  basis  of  a  wealth  of  dignity  and  drooping  folds. 
Graceful  slenderness  abounded  also.  To  Graham,  a 
typically  stiff  man  from  a  typically  stiff  period,  not  only 
did  these  men  seem  altogether  too  graceful  in  person, 
but  altogether  too  expressive  in  their  vividly  expres- 
sive faces.  They  gesticulated,  they  expressed  surprise, 
interest,  amusement,  above  all,  they  expressed  the 
emotions  excited  in  their  minds  by  the  ladies  about 

179 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

them  with  astonishing  frankness.  Even  at  the  first 
glance  it  was  evident  that  women  were  in  a  great 
majority. 

The  ladies  in  the  company  of  these  gentlemen  dis- 
played in  dress,  bearing  and  manner  alike,  less 
emphasis  and  more  intricacy.  Some  affected  a  class- 
ical simplicity  of  robing  and  subtlety  of  fold,  after  the 
fashion  of  the  First  French  Empire,  and  flashed  con- 
quering arms  and  shoulders  as  Graham  passed. 
Others  had  closely-fitting  dresses  without  seam  or  belt 
at  the  waist,  sometimes  with  long  folds  falling  from  the 
shoulders.  The  delightful  confidences  of  evening 
dress  had  not  been  diminished  by  the  passage  of  two 
centuries. 

Everyone's  movements  seemed  graceful.  Graham 
remarked  to  Lincoln  that  he  saw  men  as  Raphael's  car- 
toons walking,  and  Lincoln  told  him  that  the  attain- 
ment of  an  appropriate  set  of  gestures  was  part  of 
every  rich  person's  education.  The  Master's  entry  was 
greeted  with  a  sort  of  tittering  applause,  but  these  peo- 
ple showed  their  distinguished  manners  by  not  crowd- 
ing upon  him  nor  annoying  him  by  any  persistent 
scrutiny,  as  he  descended  the  steps  towards  the  floor  of 
the  aisle. 

He  had  already  learnt  from  Lincoln  that  these  were 
the  leaders  of  existing  London  society;  almost  every 
person  there  that  night  was  either  a  pov/erful  official 
or  the  immediate  connexion  of  a  powerful  official. 
Many  had  returned  from  the  European  Pleasure  Cities 
expressly  to  welcome  him.  The  aeronautic  author- 
ities, whose  defection  had  played  a  part  in  the  over- 
throw of  the  Council  only  second  to  Graham's  were 

1 80 


PROMINENT  PEOPLE 

very  prominent,  and  so,  too,  was  the  Wind  Vane  Con- 
trol. Amongst  others  there  were  several  of  the  more 
prominent  officers  of  the  Food  Trust;  the  controller  of 
the  European  Piggeries  had  a  particularly  melancholy 
and  interesting  countenance  and  a  daintily  cynical 
manner.  A  bishop  in  full  canonicals  passed  athwart 
Graham's  vision,  conversing  with  a  gentleman  dressed 
exactly  like  the  traditional  Chaucer,  including  even  the 
laurel  wreath. 

"Who  is  that?"  he  asked  almost  involuntarily. 

"  The  Bishop  of  London,"  said  Lincoln. 

"  No — the  other,  I  mean." 

"  Poet  Laureate." 

"  You  still ?" 

"  He  doesn't  make  poetry,  of  course.  He's  a  cousin 
of  Wotton — one  of  the  Councillors.  But  he's  one  of 
the  Red  Rose  Royalists — a  delightful  club — and  they 
keep  up  the  tradition  of  these  things." 

"  Asano  told  me  there  was  a  King." 

"  The  King  doesn't  belong.  They  had  to  expel  him. 
It's  the  Stuart  blood,  I  suppose;  but  really  — " 

"Too  much?" 

"  Far  too  much." 

Graham  did  not  quite  follow  all  this,  but  it  seemed 
part  of  the  general  inversion  of  the  new  age.  He 
bowed  condescendingly  to  his  first  introduction.  It 
was  evident  that  subtle  distinctions  of  class  prevailed 
even  in  this  assembly,  that  only  to  a  small  proportion 
of  the  guests,  to  an  inner  group,  did  Lincoln  consider 
it  appropriate  to  introduce  him.  This  first  introd'uc-  -^ 
tion  was  the  Master  Aeronaut,  a  man  whose  sun- 
tanned face  contrasted  oddly  with  the  delicate  com- 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

plexions  about  him.  Just  at  present  his  critical  defec- 
tion from  the  Council  made  him  a  very  important  per- 
son indeed. 

His  manner  contrasted  very  favourably,  according 
to  Graham's  ideas,  with  the  general  bearing.  He 
made  a  few  commonplace  remarks,  assurances  of 
loyalty  and  frank  inquiries  about  the  Master's  health. 
His  manner  was  breezy,  his  accent  lacked  the  easy 
staccato  of  latter-day  English.  He  made  it  admirably 
clear  to  Graham  that  he  was  a  bluff  "  aerial  dog" — he 
used  that  phrase  —  that  there  was  no  nonsense  about 
him,  that  he  was  a  thoroughly  manly  fellow  and  old- 
fashioned  at  that,  that  he  didn't  profess  to  know  much, 
and  that  what  he  did  not  know  was  not  worth  knowing. 
He  made  a  manly  bow,  ostentatiously  free  from  obse- 
quiousness, and  passed. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  that  type  endures,"  said  Graham. 

"  Phonographs  and  kinematographs,"  said  Lincoln, 
a  little  spitefully.  "  He  has  studied  from  the  life." 
Graham  glanced  at  the  burly  form  again.  It  was  oddly 
reminiscent. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact  we  bought  him,"  said  Lincoln. 
"  Partly.  And  partly  he  was  afraid  of  Ostrog.  Every- 
thing rested  with  him." 

He  turned  sharply  to  introduce  the  Surveyor-Gen- 
eral of  the  Public  School  Trust.  This  person  was  a 
willowy  figure  in  a  blue-grey  academic  gown,  he 
beamed  down  upon  Graham  through  pince-nes  of  a 
Victorian  pattern,  and  illustrated  his  remarks  by  ges- 
tures of  a  beautifully  manicured  hand.  Graham  was 
immediately  interested  in  this  gentleman's  functions, 
and  asked  him  a  number  of  singularly  direct  questions, 

i8? 


PROMINENT  PEOPLE 

The  Surveyor-General  seemed  quietly  amused  at  the 
Master's  fundamental  bluntness.  He  was  a  little 
vague  as  to  the  monopoly  of  education  his  Company 
possessed;  it  was  done  by  contract  with  the  syndicate 
that  ran  the  numerous  London  Municipalities,  but  he 
waxed  enthusiastic  over  educational  progress  since  the 
Victorian  times.  "  We  have  conquered  Cram,"  he 
said,  "  completely  conquered  Cram — there  is  not  an 
examination  left  in  the  world.    Aren't  you  glad?" 

"How  do  you  get  the  work  done?''  asked  Graham. 

"We  make  it  attractive — as  attractive  as  possible. 
And  if  it  does  not  attract  then — we  let  it  go.  We  cover 
an  immense  field." 

He  proceeded  to  details,  and  they  had  a  lengthy 
conversation.  The  Surveyor-General  mentioned  the 
names  of  Pestalozzi  and  Froebel  with  profound 
respect,  although  he  displayed  no  intimacy  with  their 
epoch-making  works.  Graham  learnt  that  University 
Extension  still  existed  in  a  modified  form.  "  There  is 
a  certain  type  of  girl,  for  example,"  said  the  Surveyor- 
General,  dilating  with  a  sense  of  his  usefulness,  "  with 
a  perfect  passion  for  severe  studies — when  they  are  not 
too  difficult  you  know.  We  cater  for  them  by  the 
thousand.  At  this  moment,"  he  said  with  a 
Napoleonic  touch,  "  nearly  five  hundred  phonographs 
are  lecturing  in  different  parts  of  London  on  the  influ- 
ence exercised  by  Plato  and  Swift  on  the  love  affairs 
of  Shelley,  Hazlitt,  and  Burns.  And  afterwards  they 
write  essays  on  the  lectures,  and  the  names  in  order  of 
merit  are  put  in  conspicuous  places.  You  see  how 
your  little  germ  has  grown?  The  illiterate  middle- 
class  of  your  days  has  quite  passed  away." 

183 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"About  the  public  elementary  schools,"  said 
Graham.    "  Do  you  control  them?'' 

The  Surveyor-General  did,  "  entirely."  Now, 
Graham,  in  his  later  democratic  days,  had  taken  a  keen 
interest  in  these  and  his  questioning  quickened.  Cer- 
tain casual  phrases  that  had  fallen  from  the  old  man 
with  whom  he  had  talked  in  the  darkness  recurred  to 
him.  The  Surveyor-General,  in  effect,  endorsed  the 
old  man's  words.  "  We  have  abolished  Cram,"  he 
said,  a  phrase  Graham  was  beginning  to  interpret  as 
the  abolition  of  all  sustained  work.  The  Surveyor- 
General  became  sentimental.  "  We  try  and  make  the 
elementary  schools  very  pleasant  for  the  little  chil- 
dren. They  will  have  to  work  so  soon.  Just  a  few 
simple  principles — obedience — industry." 

"  You  teach  them  very  little?" 

"  Why  should  we?  It  only  lead's  to  trouble  and  dis- 
content. We  amuse  them.  Even  as  it  is — there  are 
troubles — agitations.  Where  the  labourers  get  the 
ideas,  one  cannot  tell.  They  tell  one  another.  There 
are  socialistic  dreams — anarchy  even!  Agitators  will 
get  to  work  among  them.  I  take  it — I  have  always 
taken  it — that  my  foremost  duty  is  to  fight  against  pop- 
ular discontent.  Why  should  people  be  made 
unhappy?" 

"  I  wonder,''  said  Graham  thoughtfully.  "  But  there 
are  a  great  many  things  I  want  to  know." 

Lincoln,  who  had  stood  watching  Graham's  face 
throughout  the  conversation,  intervened.  "  There  are 
others,"  he  said  in  an  undertone. 

The  Surveyor-General  of  schools  gesticulated  him- 
self away.     "  Perhaps,"  said  Lincoln,  intercepting  a 

184 


PROMINENT  PEOPLE 

casual  glance,  "  you  would  like  to  know  some  of  these 
ladies?" 

The  daughter  of  the  Manager  of  the  Piggeries  of 
the  European  Food  Trust  was  a  particularly  charming 
little  person  with  red  hair  and  animated  blue  eyes. 
Lincoln  left  him  awhile  to  converse  with  her,  and  she 
displayed  herself  as  quite  an  enthusiast  for  the  "dear 
old  times,"  as  she  called  them,  that  had  seen  the  begin- 
ning of  his  trance.  As  she  talked  she  smiled,  and  her 
eyes  smiled  in  a  manner  that  demanded  reciprocity. 

"  I  have  tried,"  she  said,  "  countless  times — to 
imagine  those  old  romantic  days.  And  to  you — they 
are  memories.  How  strange  and  crowded  the  world 
must  seem  to  you!  I  have  seen  photographs  and  pic- 
tures of  the  old  times,  the  little  isolated  houses  built  of 
bricks  made  out  of  burnt  mud  and  all  black  with  soot 
from  your  fires,  the  railway  bridges,  the  simple  adver- 
tisements, the  solemn  savage  Puritanical  men  in 
strange  black  coats  and  those  tall  hats  of  theirs,  iron 
railway  trains  on  iron  bridges  overhead,  horses  and 
cattle,  and  even  dogs  running  half  wild  about  the 
streets.    And  suddenly,  you  have  come  into  this!" 

"  Into  this,"  said  Graham. 

"  Out  of  your  life — out  of  all  that  was  familiar." 

"  The  old  life  was  not  a  happy  one,"  said  Graham. 
"  I  do  not  regret  that." 

She  looked  at  him  quickly.  There  was  a  brief  pause. 
She  sighed  encouragingly.    "  No?  " 

"  No,"  said  Graham.  "  It  was  a  little  life — and 
unmeaning.  But  this  — .  We  thought  the  world 
complex  and  crowded  and  civilised  enough.  Yet  I  see 
— although  in  this  world  I  am  barely  four  days  old — 

^^5 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

looking  back  on  my  own  time,  that  it  was  a  queer,  bar- 
baric time — the  mere  beginning  of  this  new  order. 
The  mere  beginning  of  this  new  order.  You  will  find 
it  hard  to  understand  how  little  I  know." 

"  You  may  ask  me  what  you  like,"  she  said,  smiling 
at  him. 

"  Then  tell  me  who  these  people  are,  I'm  still  very 
much  in  the  dark  about  them.  It's  puzzling.  Are 
there  any  Generals  ?  " 

"  Men  in  hats  and  feathers?" 

"  Of  course  not.  No.  I  suppose  they  are  the  men 
who  control  the  great  public  businesses.  Who  is  that 
distinguished  looking  man?" 

"  That?  He's  a  most  important  officer.  That  is 
Morden.  He  is  managing  director  of  the  Antibilious 
Pill  Company.  I  have  heard  that  his  workers  some- 
times turn  out  a  myriad  myriad  pills  a  day  in  the 
twenty-four  hours.    Fancy  a  myriad  myriad!  " 

"A  myriad  myriad.  No  wonder  he  looks  proud," 
said  Graham.  "Pills!  What  a  wonderful  time  it  is! 
That  man  in  purple?" 

"  He  is  not  quite  one  of  the  inner  circle,  you  know. 
But  we  like  him.  He  is  really  clever  and  very  amus- 
ing. He  is  one  of  the  heads  of  the  Medical  Faculty  of 
our  London  University.  All  medical  men,  you  know, 
are  shareholders  in  the  Medical  Faculty  Company, 
and  wear  that  purple.  You  have  to  be — to  be  qual- 
ified. But  of  course,  people  who  are  paid  by  fees  for 
doing  something  — "  She  smiled  away  the  social  pre- 
tensions of  all  such  people. 

"  Are  any  of  your  great  artists  or  authors  here?" 

"  No  authors.  They  are  mostly  such  queer  people — 
i86 


PROMINENT  PEOPLE 

and  so  preoccupied  about  themselves.  And  they  quar- 
rel so  dreadfully!  They  will  fight,  some  of  them,  for 
precedence  on  staircases!  Dreadful  isn't  it?  But  I 
think  Wraysbury,  the  fashionable  capillotomist,  is 
here.    From  Capri." 

"  Capillotomist/'  said  Graham.  "  Ah !  I  remember. 
An  artist!    Why  not?" 

"  We  have  to  cultivate  him,"  she  said  apologetically. 
"  Our  heads  are  in  his  hands."    She  smiled. 

Graham  hesitated  at  the  invited  compliment,  but  his 
glance  was  expressive.  "  Have  the  arts  grown  with 
the  rest  of  civilised  things?"  he  said.  "Who  are  your 
great  painters?" 

She  looked  at  him  doubtfully.  Then  laughed. 
"  For  a  moment,"  she  said,  "  I  thought  you  meant — '' 
She  laughed  again.  "  You  mean,  of  course,  those 
good  men  you  used  to  think  so  much  of  because  they 
could  cover  great  spaces  of  canvas  with  oil-colours? 
Great  oblongs.  And  people  used  to  put  the  things  in 
gilt  frames  and  hang  them  up  in  rows  in  their  square 
rooms.  We  haven't  any.  People  grew  tired  of  that 
sort  of  thing." 

"  But  what  did  you  think  I  meant?" 

She  put  a  finger  significantly  on  a  cheek  whose  glow 
was  above  suspicion,  and  smiled  and  looked  very  arch 
and  pretty  and  inviting.  "  xA.nd  here,"  and  she  indica- 
ted her  eyelid. 

Graham  had  an  adventurous  moment.  Then  a 
grotesque  memory  of  a  picture  he  had  somewhere 
seen  of  Uncle  Toby  and  the  Widow  flashed  across  his 
mind.  An  archaic  shame  came  upon  him.  He 
became  acutely  aware  that  he  was  visible  to  a  great 

187 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

number  of  interested  people.  "  I  see,"  he  remarked 
inadequately.  He  turned  awkwardly  away  from  her 
fascinating  facility.  He  looked  about  him  to  meet  a 
number  of  eyes  that  immediately  occupied  themselves 
with  other  things.  Possibly  he  coloured  a  little. 
"Who  is  that  talking  with  the  lady  in  saffron?"  he 
asked,  avoiding  her  eyes. 

The  person  in  question  he  learnt  was  one  of  the 
great  organisers  of  the  American  theatres  just  fresh 
from  a  gigantic  production  at  Mexico.  His  face 
reminded  Graham  of  a  bust  of  Caligula.  Another 
striking  looking  man  was  the  Black  Labour  Master. 
The  phrase  at  the  time  made  no  deep  impression,  but 
afterwards  it  recurred; — the  Black  Labour  Master? 
The  little  lady,  in  no  degree  embarrassed,  pointed  out 
to  him  a  charming  little  woman  as  one  of  the  sub- 
sidiary wives  of  the  Anglican  Bishop  of  London.  She 
added  encomiums  on  the  episcopal  courage  —  hitherto 
there  had  been  a  rule  of  clerical  monogamy — "  neither 
a  natural  nor  an  expedient  condition  of  things.  Why 
should  the  natural  development  of  the  affections  be 
dwarfed  and  restricted  because  a  man  is  a  priest?" 

"  And,  bye  the  bye,"  she  added,  "  are  you  an  Angli- 
can?" Graham  was  on  the  verge  of  hesitating 
inquiries  about  the  status  of  a  "  subsidiary  wife,"  appa- 
rently an  euphemistic  phrase,  when  Lincoln's  return 
broke  off  this  very  suggestive  and  interesting  conver- 
sation. They  crossed  the  aisle  to  where  a  tall  man  in 
crimson,  and  two  charming  persons  in  Burmese  cos- 
tume (as  it  seemed  to  him)  awaited  him  diffidently. 
From  their  civilities  he  passed  to  other  presentations. 

In    a    Uttle    while    his    multitudinous  impressions 
i88 


PROMINENT  PEOPLE 

began  to  organise  themselves  into  a  general  effect.  At 
first  the  ghtter  of  the  gathering  had  raised  all  the  dem- 
ocrat in  Graham ;  he  had  felt  hostile  and  satirical.  But 
it  is  not  in  human  nature  to  resist  an  atmosphere  of 
courteous  regard.  Soon  the  music,  the  light,  the  play 
of  colours,  the  shining  arms  and  shoulders  about  him, 
the  touch  of  hands,  the  transient  interest  of  smiling 
faces,  the  frothing  sound  of  skilfully  modulated  voices, 
the  atmosphere  of  compliment,  interest  and  respect, 
had  woven  together  into  a  fabric  of  indisputable  pleas- 
ure. Graham  for  a  time  forgot  his  spacious  resolu- 
tions. He  gave  way  insensibly  to  the  intoxication  of 
the  position  that  was  conceded  him,  his  manner 
became  less  conscious,  more  convincingly  regal,  his 
feet  walked  assuredly,  the  black  robe  fell  with  a  bolder 
fold  and  pride  ennobled  his  voice.  After  all  this  was 
a  brilliant  interesting  world. 

His  glance  went  approvingly  over  the  shifting 
colours  of  the  people,  it  rested  here  and  there  in  kindly 
criticism  upon  a  face.  Presently  it  occurred  to  him 
that  he  owed  some  apology  to  the  charming  little  per- 
son with  the  red  hair  and  blue  eyes.  He  felt  guilty  of 
a  clumsy  snub.  It  was  not  princely  to  ignore  her 
advances,  even  if  his  policy  necessitated  their  rejec- 
tion. He  wondered  if  he  should  see  her  again.  And 
suddenly  a  little  thing  touched  all  the  glamour  of  this 
brilliant  gathering  and  changed  its  quality. 

He  looked  up  and  saw  passing  across  a  bridge  of 
porcelain  and  looking  down  upon  him,  a  face  that  was 
almost  immediately  hidden,  the  face  of  the  girl  he  had 
seen  overnight  in  the  little  room  beyond  the  theatre 
after  his  escape  from  the  Council.    And  she  was  look- 

189 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

ing  with  much  the  same  expression  of  curious  expec- 
tation, of  uncertain  intentncss,  upon  his  proceedings. 
For  the  moment  he  did  not  remember  when  he  had 
seen  her,  and  then  with  recognition  came  a  vague 
memory  of  the  stirring  emotions  of  their  first  encoun- 
ter. But  the  dancing  web  of  melody  about  him  kept 
the  air  of  that  great  marching  song  from  his  memory. 

The  lady  to  whom  he  was  talking  repeated  her 
remark,  and  Graham  recalled  himself  to  the  quasi- 
regal  flirtation  upon  which  he  was  engaged. 

But  from  that  moment  a  vague  restlessness,  a  feel- 
ing that  grew  to  dissatisfaction,  came  into  his  mind. 
He  was  troubled  as  if  by  some  half  forgotten  duty,  by 
the  sense  of  things  important  slipping  from  him  amidst 
this  light  and  brilliance.  The  attraction  that  these 
bright  ladies  who  crowded  about  him  were  beginning 
to  exercise  ceased.  He  no  longer  made  vague  and 
clumsy  responses  to  the  subtly  amorous  advances  that 
he  was  now  assured  were  being  made  to  him,  and  his 
eyes  wandered  for  another  sight  of  that  face  that  had 
appealed  so  strongly  to  his  sense  of  beauty.  But  he 
did  not  see  her  again  until  he  was  awaiting  Lincoln's 
return  to  leave  this  assembly.  In  answer  to  his  request 
Lincoln  had  promised  that  an  attempt  should  be  made 
to  fly  that  afternoon,  if  the  weather  permitted.  He  had 
gone  to  make  certain  necessary  arrangements. 

Graham  was  in  one  of  the  upper  galleries  in  con- 
versation with  a  bright-eyed  lady  on  the  subject  of 
Eadhamite — the  subject  was  his  choice  and  not  hers. 
He  had  interrupted  her  warm  assurances  of  personal 
devotion  with  a  matter-of-fact  inquiry.  He  found  her, 
as   he   had    already   found    several    other   latter-day 

190 


PROMINENT  PEOPLE 

women  that  night,  less  well  informed  than  charming. 
Suddenly,  struggling  against  the  eddying  drift  of 
nearer  melody,  the  song  of  the  Revolt,  the  great  song 
he  had  heard  in  the  Hall,  hoarse  and  massive,  came 
beating  down  to  him. 

He  glanced  up  startled,  and  perceived  above  him  an 
oeil  de  boeiif  through  which  this  song  had  come,  and 
beyond,  the  upper  courses  of  cable,  the  blue  haze,  and 
the  pendant  fabric  of  the  lights  of  the  public  ways.  He 
heard  the  song  break  into  a  tumult  of  voices  and  cease. 
But  now  he  perceived  quite  clearly  the  drone  and 
tumult  of  the  moving  platforms  and  a  murmur  of 
many  people.  He  had  a  vague  persuasion  that  he 
could  not  account  for,  a  sort  of  instinctive  feeling  that 
outside  in  the  ways  a  huge  crowd  must  be  watching 
this  place  in  which  their  Master  amused  himself.  He 
wondered  what  they  might  be  thinking. 

Though  the  song  had  stopped  so  abruptly,  though 
the  special  music  of  this  gathering  reasserted  itself,  the 
motif  of  the  marching  song,  once  it  had  begun, 
lingered  in  his  mind. 

The  bright-eyed  lady  was  still  struggling  with  the 
mysteries  of  Eadhamite  when  he  perceived  the  girl  he 
had  seen  in  the  theatre  again.  She  was  coming  now 
along  the  gallery  towards  him;  he  saw  her  first  before 
she  saw  him.  She  was  dressed  in  a  faintly  luminous 
grey,  her  dark  hair  about  her  brows  was  like  a  cloud, 
and  as  he  saw  her  the  cold  light  from  the  circular 
opening  into  the  ways  fell  upon  her  downcast  face. 

The  lady  in  trouble  about  the  Eadhamite  saw  the 
change  in  his  expression,  and  grasped  her  opportunity 
to  escape.    "  Would  you  care  to  know  that  girl,  Sire?" 

191 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

she  asked  boldly.  "  She  is  Helen  Wotton — a  niece  of 
Ostrog's.  She  knows  a  great  many  serious  things. 
She  is  one  of  the  most  serious  persons  alive.  I  am 
sure  you  will  like  her." 

In  another  moment  Graham  was  talking  to  the  girl, 
and  the  bright-eyed  lady  had  fluttered  away. 

"  I  remember  you  quite  well,"  said  Graham.  "  You 
were  in  that  little  room.  When  all  the  people  were 
singing  and  beating  time  with  their  feet.  Before  I 
walked  across  the  Hall." 

Her  momentary  embarrassment  passed".  She 
looked  up  at  him,  and  her  face  was  steady.  "  It  was 
wonderful,"  she  said,  hesitated,  and  spoke  with  a  sud- 
den eflfort.  "  All  those  people  would  have  died  for  you, 
Sire.    Countless  people  did  die  for  you  that  night." 

Her  face  glowed.  She  glanced  swiftly  aside  to  see 
that  no  other  heard  her  word's. 

Lincoln  appeared  some  way  off  along  the  gallery, 
making  his  way  through  the  press  towards  them.  She 
saw  him  and  turned  to  Graham  strangely  eager,  with 
a  swift  change  to  confidence  and  intimacy.  "  Sire,'' 
she  said  quickly,  "  I  cannot  tell  you  now  and  here.  But 
the  common  people  are  very  unhappy;  they  are 
oppressed — they  are  misgoverned.  Do  not  forget  the 
people,  who  faced  death — death  that  you  might  live." 

"  I  know  nothing — "  began  Graham. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  now." 

Lincoln's  face  appeared  close  to  them.  He  bowed 
an  apology  to  the  girl. 

"  You  find  the  new  world  pleasant.  Sire?"  asked  Lin- 
coln, with  smiling  deference,  and  indicating  the  space 

192 


PROMINENT  PEOPLE 

and  splendour  of  the  gathering  by  one  comprehensive 
gesture.    "  At  any  rate,  you  find  it  changed." 

"  Yes,"  said  Graham,  "  changed.  And  yet,  after  all, 
not  so  greatly  changed." 

"  Wait  till  you  are  in  the  air,"  said  Lincoln.  "  The 
wind  has  fallen;  even  now  an  acropile  awaits  you." 

The  girl's  attitude  awaited  dismissal. 

Graham  glanced  at  her  face,  was  on  the  verge  of  a 
question,  found  a  warning  in  her  expression,  bowed  to 
her  and  turned  to  accompany  Lincoln. 


193 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  AEROPILE 

For  a  while,  as  Graham  went  through  the  passages 
of  the  Wind- Vane  offices  with  Lincoln,  he  was  pre- 
occupied. But,  by  an  effort,  he  attended  to  the  things 
which  Lincoln  was  saying.  Soon  his  preoccupation 
vanished.  Lincoln  was  talking  of  flying.  Graham  had 
a  strong  desire  to  know  more  of  this  new  human 
attainment.  He  began  to  ply  Lincoln  with  questions. 
He  had  followed  the  crude  beginnings  of  aerial  navi- 
gation very  keenly  in  his  previous  life;  he  was 
delighted  to  find  the  familiar  names  of  Maxim  and  Pil- 
cher,  Langley  and  Chanute,  and,  above  all,  of  the  aerial 
proto-martyr  Lillienthal,  still  honoured  by  men. 

Even  during  his  previous  life  two  lines  of  investiga- 
tion had  pointed  clearly  to  two  distinct  types  of  con- 
trivance as  possible,  and  both  of  these  had  been 
realised.  On  the  one  hand  was  the  great  engine- 
driven  aeroplane,  a  double  row  of  horizontal  floats 
with  a  big  aerial  screw  behind,  and  on  the  other  the 
nimbler  aeropile.  The  aeroplanes  flew  safely  only  in  a 
calm  or  moderate  wind,  and  sudden  storms,  occur- 
rences that  were  now  accurately  predictable,  rendered 
them  for  all  practical  purposes  useless.  They  were 
built  of  enormous  size  —  the  usual  stretch  of  wing 
being  six  hundred  feet  or  more,  and  the  length  of  the 
fabric    a   thousand   feet.     They   were    for   passenger 

194 


THE  AEROPILE 

traffic  alone.  The  lightly  swung  car  they  carried  was 
from  a  hundred  to  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  length. 
It  was  hung  in  a  peculiar  manner  in  order  to  minimise 
the  complex  vibration  that  even  a  moderate  wind  pro- 
duced, and  for  the  same  reason  the  little  seats  within 
the  car  —  each  passenger  remained  seated  during  the 
voyage  —  were  slung  with  great  freedom  of  move- 
ment. The  starting  of  the  mechanism  was  only  pos- 
sible from  a  gigantic  car  on  the  rail  of  a  specially  con- 
structed stage.  Graham  had  seen  these  vast  stages, 
the  flying  stages,  from  the  crow's  nest  very  well.  Six 
huge  blank  areas  they  were,  with  a  giant  "  carrier " 
stage  on  each. 

The  choice  of  descent  was  equally  circumscribed,  an 
accurately  plane  surface  being  needed  for  safe  ground- 
ing. Apart  from  the  destruction  that  would  have  been 
caused  by  the  descent  of  this  great  expanse  of  sail  and 
metal,  and  the  impossibility  of  its  rising  again,  the  con- 
cussion of  an  irregular  surface,  a  tree-set  hillside,  for 
instance,  or  an  embankment,  would  be  sufficient  to 
pierce  or  damage  the  framework,  to  smash  the  ribs  of 
the  body,  and  perhaps  kill  those  aboard. 

At  first  Graham  felt  disappointed  with  these  cum- 
bersome contrivances,  but  he  speedily  grasped  the  fact 
that  smaller  machines  would  have  been  unremunera- 
tive,  for  the  simple  reason  that  their  carrying  power 
would  be  disproportionately  diminished  with  dimin- 
ished size.  Moreover,  the  huge  size  of  these  things 
enabled  them  —  and  it  was  a  consideration  of  primary 
importance  —  to  traverse  the  air  at  enormous  speeds, 
and  so  run  no  risks  of  unanticipated  weather.  The 
briefest   journey    performed,    that    from    London    to 

195 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Paris,  took  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  but  the 
velocity  attained  was  not  high;  the  leap  to  New  York 
occupied  about  two  hours,  and  by  timing  oneself  care- 
fully at  the  intermediate  stations  it  was  possible  in 
quiet  weather  to  go  around  the  world  in  a  day. 

The  little  aeropiles  (as  for  no  particular  reason  they 
were  distinctively  called)  were  of  an  altogether  dif- 
ferent type.  Several  of  these  were  going  to  and  fro  in 
the  air.  They  were  designed  to  carry  only  one  or  two 
persons,  and  their  manufacture  and  maintenance  was 
so  costly  as  to  render  them  the  monopoly  of  the  richer 
sort  of  people.  Their  sails,  which  were  brilliantly 
coloured,  consisted  only  of  two  pairs  of  lateral  air 
floats  in  the  same  plane,  and  of  a  screw  behind.  Their 
small  size  rendered  a  descent  in  any  open  space  neither 
difficult  nor  disagreeable,  and  it  was  possible  to  attach 
pneumatic  wheels  or  even  the  ordinary  motors  for  ter- 
restrial traffic  to  them,  and  so  carry  them  to  a  con- 
venient starting  place.  They  required  a  special  sort  of 
swift  car  to  throw  them  into  the  air,  but  such  a  car 
was  efficient  in  any  open  place  clear  of  high  buildings 
or  trees.  Human  aeronautics,  Graham  perceived, 
were  evidently  still  a  long  way  behind  the  instinctive 
gift  of  the  albatross  or  the  fly-catcher.  One  great 
influence  that  might  have  brought  the  aeropile  to  a 
more  rapid  perfection  had  been  withheld;  these  inven- 
tions had  never  been  used  in  warfare.  The  last  great 
international  struggle  had  occurred  before  the  usurpa- 
tion of  the  Council. 

The  Flying  Stages  of  London  were  collected 
together  in  a-n  irregular  crescent  on  the  southern  side 
of  the  river.    They  formed  three  groups  of  two  each 

196 


THE  AEROPILE 

and  retained  the  names  of  ancient  suburban  hills  or 
villages.  They  were  named  in  order,  Roehampton, 
Wimbledon  Park,  Streatham,  Norwood,  Blackheath, 
and  Shooter's  Hill.  They  were  uniform  structures  ris- 
ing high  above  the  general  roof  surfaces.  Each  was 
about  four  thousand  yards  long  and  a  thousand  broad, 
and  constructed  of  the  compound  of  aluminium  and 
iron  that  had  replaced  iron  in  architecture.  Their 
higher  tiers  formed  an  openwork  of  girders  through 
which  lifts  and  staircases  ascended.  The  upper  sur- 
face was  a  uniform  expanse,  with  portions  —  the  start- 
ing carriers  —  that  could  be  raised  and  were  then  able 
to  run  on  very  slightly  inclined  rails  to  the  end  of  the 
fabric.  Save  for  any  aeropiles  or  aeroplanes  that  were 
in  port  these  open  surfaces  were  kept  clear  for  arrivals. 
During  the  adjustment  of  the  aeroplanes  it  was  the 
custom  for  passengers  to  wait  in  the  system  of  the- 
atres, restaurants,  news-rooms,  and  places  of  pleasure 
and  indulgence  of  various  sorts  that  interwove  with  the 
prosperous  shops  below.  This  portion  of  London  was 
in  consequence  commonly  the  gayest  of  all  its  dis- 
tricts, with  something  of  the  meretricious  gaiety  of  a 
seaport  or  city  of  hotels.  And  for  those  who  took  a 
more  serious  view  of  aeronautics,  the  religious  quar- 
ters had  flung  out  an  attractive  colony  of  devotional 
chapels,  while  a  host  of  brilliant  medical  establish- 
ments competed  to  supply  physical  preparatives  for  the 
journey.  At  various  levels  through  the  mass  of  cham- 
bers and  passages  beneath  these,  ran,  in  addition  to  the 
main  moving  ways  of  the  city  which  laced  and 
gathered  here,  a  complex  system  of  special  passages 
and  lifts  and  slides,  for  the  convenient  interchange  of 

197 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

people  and  luggage  between  stage  and  stage.  And  a 
distinctive  feature  of  the  architecture  of  this  section 
was  the  ostentatious  massiveness  of  the  metal  piers 
and  girders  that  everywhere  broke  the  vistas  and 
spanned  the  halls  and  passages,  crowding  and  twining 
up  to  meet  the  weight  of  the  stages  and  the  weighty 
impact  of  the  aeroplanes  overhead. 

Graham  went  to  the  flying  stages  by  the  public  ways. 
He  was  accompanied  by  Asano,  his  Japanese  attend- 
ant. Lincoln  was  called  away  by  Ostrog,  who  was 
busy  with  his  administrative  concerns.  A  strong 
guard  of  the  Wind- Vane  police  awaited  the  Master 
outside  the  Wind-Vane  offices,  and  they  cleared  a 
space  for  him  on  the  upper  moving  platform.  His 
passage  to  the  flying  stages  was  unexpected,  never- 
theless a  considerable  crowd  gathered  and  followed 
him  to  his  destination.  As  he  went  along,  he  could 
hear  the  people  shouting  his  name,  and  saw  number- 
less men  and  women  and  children  in  blue  come  swarm- 
ing up  the  staircases  in  the  central  path,  gesticulating 
and  shouting.  He  could  not  hear  what  they  shouted. 
He  was  struck  again  by  the  evident  existence  of  a  vul- 
gar dialect  among  the  poor  of  the  city.  When  at  last 
he  descended,  his  guards  were  immediately  sur- 
rounded by  a  dense  excited  crowd.  Afterwards  it 
occurred  to  him  that  some  had  attempted  to  reach  him 
with  petitions.  His  guards  cleared  a  passage  for  him 
with  difficulty. 

He  found  an  aeropile  in  charge  of  an  aeronaut 
awaiting  him  on  the  westward  stage.  Seen  close  this 
mechanism  was  no  longer  small.  As  it  lay  on  its 
launching  carrier  upon  the  wide  expanse  of  the  flying 

198 


THE  AEROPILE 

Stage,  its  aluminium  body  skeleton  was  as  big  as  the 
hull  of  a  twenty-ton  yacht.  Its  lateral  supporting  sails 
braced  and  stayed  with  metal  nerves  almost  like  the 
nerves  of  a  bee's  wing,  and  made  of  some  sort  of 
glassy  artificial  membrane,  cast  their  shadow  over 
many  hundreds  of  square  yards.  The  chairs  for  the 
engineer  and  his  passenger  hung  free  to  swing  by  a 
complex  tackle,  within  the  protecting  ribs  of  the 
frame  and  well  abaft  the  middle.  The  passenger's 
chair  was  protected  by  a  wind-guard  and  guarded 
about  with  metallic  rods  carrying  air  cushions.  It 
could,  if  desired,  be  completely  closed  in,  but  Graham 
was  anxious  for  novel  experiences,  and  desired  that  it 
should  be  left  open.  The  aeronaut  sat  behind  a  glass 
that  sheltered  his  face.  The  passenger  could  secure 
himself  firmly  in  his  seat,  and  this  was  almost  unavoid- 
able on  landing,  or  he  could  move  along  by  means  of 
a  little  rail  and  rod  to  a  locker  at  the  stem'  of  the 
machine,  where  his  personal  luggage,  his  wraps  and 
restoratives  were  placed,  and  which  also  with  the  seats, 
served  as  a  makeweight  to  the  parts  of  the  central 
engine  that  projected  to  the  propeller  at  the  stern. 

The  engine  was  very  simple  in  appearance.  Asano, 
pointing  out  the  parts  of  this  apparatus  to  him,  told 
him  that,  like  the  gas-engine  of  Victorian  days,  it  was 
of  the  explosive  type,  burning  a  small  drop  of  a  sub- 
stance called  "fomile"  at  each  stroke.  It  consisted 
simply  of  reservoir  and  piston  about  the  long  fluted 
crank  of  the  propeller  shaft.  So  much  Graham  saw  of 
the  machine. 

The  flying  stage  about  him  was  empty  save  for 
Asano  and  their  suite  of  attendants.    Directed  by  the 

199 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

aeronaut  he  placed  himself  in  his  seat.  He  then  drank 
a  mixture  containing  ergot  —  a  dose,  he  learnt,  invari- 
ably administered  to  those  about  to  fly,  and  designed 
to  counteract  the  possible  effect  of  diminished  air  pres- 
sure upon  the  system.  Having  done  so,  he  declared 
himself  ready  for  the  journey.  Asano  took  the  empty 
glass  from  him,  stepped  through  the  bars  of  the  hull, 
and  stood  below  on  the  stage  waving  his  hand.  Sud- 
denly he  seemed  to  slide  along  the  stage  to  the  right 
and  vanish. 

The  engine  was  beating,  the  propeller  spinning,  and 
for  a  second  the  stage  and  the  buildings  beyond  were 
gliding  swiftly  and  horizontally  past  Graham's  eye; 
then  these  things  seemed  to  tilt  up  abruptly.  He 
gripped  the  little  rods  on  either  side  of  him  instinc- 
tively. He  felt  himself  moving  upward,  heard  the  air 
whistle  over  the  top  of  the  wind  screen.  The  propel- 
ler screw  moved  round  with  powerful  rhythmic 
impulses  —  one,  two,  three,  pause;  one,  two,  three  — 
which  the  engineer  controlled  very  delicately.  The 
machine  began  a  quivering  vibration  that  continued 
throughout  the  flight,  and  the  roof  areas  seemed  run- 
ning away  to  starboard  very  quickly  and  growing 
rapidly  smaller.  He  looked  from  the  face  of  the  engi- 
neer through  the  ribs  of  the  machine.  Looking  side- 
ways, there  was  nothing  very  startling  in  what  he  saw 
—  a  rapid  funicular  railway  might  have  given  the  same 
sensations.  He  recognised  the  Council  House  and  the 
Highgate  Ridge.  And  then  he  looked  straight  down 
between  his  feet. 

For  a  moment  physical  terror  possessed  him,  a  pas- 
sionate sense  of  insecurity.    He  held  tight.    For  a  sec- 

200 


THE  AEROPILE 

ond  or  so  he  could  not  lift  his  eyes.  Some  hundred, 
feet  or  more  sheer  below  him  was  one  of  the  big  wind- 
vanes  of  south-west  London,  and  beyond  it  the  south- 
ernmost flying  stage  crowded  with  little  black  dots. 
These  things  seemed  to  be  falling  away  from  him. 
For  a  second  he  had  an  impulse  to  pursue  the  earth. 
He  set  his  teeth,  he  lifted  his  eyes  by  a  muscular  effort, 
and  the  moment  of  panic  passed. 

He  remained  for  a  space  with  his  teeth  set  hard,  his 
eyes  staring  into  the  sky.  Throb,  throb,  throb  —  beat, 
went  the  engine;  throb,  throb,  throb, —  beat. 
He  gripped  his  bars  tightly,  glanced  at  the  aeronaut, 
and  saw  a  smile  upon  his  sun-tanned  face.  He  smiled 
in  return  —  perhaps  a  little  artificially.  "A  little 
strange  at  first,"  he  shouted  before  he  recalled  his 
dignity.  But  he  dared  not  look  down  again  for  some 
time.  He  stared  over  the  aeronaut's  head  to  where  a 
rim  of  vague  blue  horizon  crept  up  the  sky.  For  a 
little  while  he  could  not  banish  the  thought  of  possible 
accidents  from  his  mind.  Throb,  throb,  throb  —  beat; 
suppose  some  trivial  screw  went  wrong  in  that  sup- 
porting engine!  Suppose — !  He  made  a  grim 
efifort  to  dismiss  all  such  suppositions.  After  a  while 
they  did  at  least  abandon  the  foreground  of  his 
thoughts.  And  up  he  went  steadily,  higher  and  higher 
into  the  clear  air. 

Once  the  mental  shock  of  moving  unsupported 
through  the  air  was  over,  his  sensations  ceased  to  be 
unpleasant,  became  very  speedily  pleasurable.  He  had 
been  warned  of  air  sickness.  But  he  found  the  pulsa- 
ting movement  of  the  aeropile  as  it  drove  up  the  faint 
south-west  breeze  was  very  little  in  excess  of  the  pitch- 

201 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

ing  of  a  boat  head  on  to  broad  rollers  in  a  moderate 
gale,  and  he  was  constitutionally  a  good  sailor.  And 
the  keenness  of  the  more  rarefied  air  into  which  they 
ascended  produced  a  sense  of  lightness  and  exhilara- 
tion. He  looked  up  and  saw  the  blue  sky  above 
fretted  with  cirrus  clouds.  His  eye  came  cautiously 
down  through  the  ribs  and  bars  to  a  shining  flight  of 
white  birds  that  hung  in  the  lower  sky.  For  a  space 
he  watched  these.  Then  going  lower  and  less  appre- 
hensively, he  saw  the  slender  figure  of  the  Wind-Vane 
keeper's  crow's  nest  shining  golden  in  the  sunlight  and 
growing  smaller  every  moment.  As  his  eye  fell  with 
more  confidence  now%  there  came  a  blue  line  of  hills, 
and  then  London,  already  to  leeward,  an  intricate 
space  of  roofing.  Its  near  edge  came  sharp  and  clear, 
and  banished  his  last  apprehensions  in  a  shock  of  sur- 
prise. For  the  boundary  of  London  was  like  a  wall, 
like  a  cliff,  a  steep  fall  of  three  or  four  hundred  feet,  a 
frontage  broken  only  by  terraces  here  and  there,  a 
complex  decorative  faqade. 

That  gradual  passage  of  town  into  country  through 
an  extensive  sponge  of  suburbs,  which  was  so  char- 
acteristic a  feature  of  the  great  cities  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  existed  no  longer.  Nothing  remained  of  it 
but  a  waste  of  ruins  here,  variegated  and  dense  with 
thickets  of  the  heterogeneous  growths  that  had  once 
adorned  the  gardens  of  the  belt,  interspersed  among 
levelled  brown  patches  of  sown  ground,  and  verdant 
stretches  of  winter  greens.  The  latter  even  spread 
among  the  vestiges  of  houses.  But  for  the  most  part 
the  reefs  and  skerries  of  ruins,  the  wreckage  of  subur- 
ban villas,  stood  among  their  streets  and  roads,  queer 

202 


THE  AEROPILE 

islands  amidst  the  levelled  expanses  of  green  and 
brown,  abandoned  indeed  by  the  inhabitants  years 
since,  but  too  substantial,  it  seemed,  to  be  cleared  out 
of  the  way  of  the  wholesale  horticultural  mechanisms 
of  the  time. 

The  vegetation  of  this  waste  undulated  and  frothed 
amidst  the  countless  cells  of  crumbling  house  walls, 
and  broke  along  the  foot  of  the  city  wall  in  a  surf  of 
bramble  and  holly  and  ivy  and  teazle  and  tall  grasses. 
Here  and  there  gaudy  pleasure  palaces  towered  amidst 
the  puny  remains  of  Victorian  times,  and  cable  ways 
slanted  to  them  from  the  city.  That  winter  day  they 
seemed  deserted.  Deserted,  too,  were  the  artificial 
gardens  among  the  ruins.  The  city  limits  were  indeed 
as  sharply  defined  as  in  the  ancient  days  when  the 
gates  were  shut  at  nightfall  and  the  robber  foeman 
prowled  to  the  very  walls.  A  huge  semi-circular  throat 
poured  out  a  vigorous  traffic  upon  the  Eadhamite 
Bath  Road.  So  the  first  prospect  of  the  world  beyond 
the  city  flashed  on  Graham,  and  dwindled.  And  when 
at  last  he  could  look  vertically  downv/ard  again,  he 
saw  below  him  the  vegetable  fields  of  the  Thames  val- 
ley —  innumerable  minute  oblongs  of  ruddy  brown, 
intersected  by  shining  threads,  the  sewage  ditches. 

His  exhilaration  increased  rapidly,  became  a  sort  of 
intoxication.  He  found  himself  drawing  deep  breaths 
of  air,  laughing  aloud,  desiring  to  shout.  After  a  time 
that  desire  became  too  strong  for  him,  and  he  shouted. 

The  machine  had  now  risen  as  high  as  was  cus- 
tomary with  aeropiles,  and  they  began  to  curve  about 
towards  the  south.  Steering,  Graham  perceived,  was 
effected  by  the  opening  or  closing  of  one  or  two  thin 

203 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Strips  of  nicinbrane  in  one  or  other  of  the  otherwise 
rigid  wings,  and  by  the  movement  of  tlie  whole  engine 
backward  or  forward  along  its  supports.  The  aero- 
naut set  the  engine  gliding  slowly  forward  along  its 
rail  and  opened  the  valve  of  the  leeward  wing  until  the 
stem  of  the  aeropile  was  horizontal  and  pointing  south- 
ward. And  in  that  direction  they  drove  with  a  slight 
list  to  leeward,  and  with  a  slow  alternation  of  move- 
ment, first  a  short,  sharp  ascent  and  then  a  long 
downward  glide  that  was  very  swift  and  pleasing. 
During  these  downward  glides  the  propellor  was 
inactive  altogether.  These  ascents  gave  Graham  a 
glorious  sense  of  successful  effort;  the  descents 
through  the  rarefied  air  were  beyond  all  experience. 
He  wanted  never  to  leave  the  upper  air  again. 

For  a  time  he  was  intent  upon  the  minute  details  of 
the  landscape  that  ran  swiftly  northward  beneath  him. 
Its  minute,  clear  detail  pleased  him  exceedingly.  He 
was  impressed  by  the  ruin  of  the  houses  that  had  once 
dotted  the  country,  by  the  vast  treeless  expanse  of 
country  from  which  all  farms  and  villages  had  gone, 
save  for  crumbling  ruins.  He  had  known  the  thing 
was  so,  but  seeing  it  so  was  an  altogether  different 
matter.  He  tried  to  make  out  places  he  had  known 
within  the  hollow  basin  of  the  world  below,  but  at  first 
he  could  distinguish  no  data  now  that  the  Thames  valley 
was  left  behind.  Soon,  however,  they  were  driving  over 
a  sharp  chalk  hill  that  he  recognised  as  the  Guildford 
Hog's  Back,  because  of  the  familiar  outline  of  the 
gorge  at  its  eastward  end,  and  because  of  the  ruins  of 
the  town  that  rose  steeply  on  either  lip  of  this  gorge. 
And  from  that  he  made  out  other  points,  Leith  Hill, 

204 


THE  AEROPILE 

the  sandy  wastes  of  Aldershot,  and  so  fortli.  The 
Downs  escarpment  was  set  with  gigantic  slow-moving 
wind-wheels.  Save  where  the  broad  Eadhamite  Ports- 
mouth Road,  thickly  dotted  with  rushing  shapes,  fol- 
lowed the  course  of  the  old  railway,  the  gorge  of  the 
Wey  was  choked  with  thickets. 

The  whole  expanse  of  the  Downs  escarpment,  so  far 
as  the  grey  haze  permitted  him  to  see,  was  set  with 
wind-wheels  to  which  tl  e  largest  of  the  city  was  but  a 
younger  brother.  They  stirred  with  a  stately  motion 
before  the  south-west  wind.  And  here  and  there  were 
patches  dotted  with  the  sheep  of  the  British  Food 
Trust,  and  here  and  there  a  mounted  shepherd  made  a 
spot  of  black.  Then  rushing  under  the  stern  of  the 
aeropile  came  the  Wealden  Heights,  the  line  of  Hind- 
head,  Pitch  Hill,  and  Leith  Hill,  with  a  second  row  of 
wind-wheels  that  seemed  striving  to  rob  the  downland 
whirlers  of  their  share  of  breeze.  The  purple  heather 
was  speckled  with  yellow  gorse,  and  on  the  further 
side  a  drove  of  black  oxen  stampeded  before  a 
couple  of  mounted  men.  Swiftly  these  swept  behind, 
and  dwindled  and  lost  colour,  and  became  scarce  mov- 
ing specks  that  were  swallowed  up  in  haze. 

And  when  these  had  vanished  in  the  distance 
Graham  heard  a  peewit  wailing  close  at  hand.  He 
perceived  he  was  now  above  the  South  Downs, 
and  staring  over  his  shoulder  saw  the  battlements 
of  Portsmouth  Landing  Stage  towering  over  the 
ridge  of  Portsdown  Hill.  In  another  moment  there 
came  into  sight  a  spread  of  shipping  like  floating 
cities,  the  little  white  clififs  of  the  Needles  dwarfed  and 
sunlit,  and  the  grey  and  glittering  waters  of  the  nar- 

205 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

row  sea.  They  seemed  to  leap  the  Solent  in  a  moment, 
and  in  a  few  seconds  the  Isle  of  Wight  was  running 
past,  and  then  beneath  him  spread  a  wider  and  wider 
extent  of  sea,  here  purple  with  the  shadow  of  a  cloud, 
here  grey,  here  a  burnished  mirror,  and  here  a  spread 
of  cloudy  greenish  blue.  The  Isle  of  Wight  grew 
smaller  and  smaller.  In  a  few  more  minutes  a  strip  of 
grey  haze  detached  itself  from  other  strips  that  were 
clouds,  descended  out  of  the  sky  and  became  a  coast- 
line —  sunlit  and  pleasant  —  the  coast  of  northern 
France.  It  rose,  it  took  colour,  became  definite  and 
detailed,  and  the  counterpart  of  the  Downland  of  Eng- 
land was  speeding  by  below. 

In  a  little  time,  as  it  seemed,  Paris  came  above  the 
horizon,  and  hung  there  for  a  space,  and  sank  out  of 
sight  again  as  the  aeropile  circled  about  to  the  north 
again.  But  he  perceived  the  Eififel  Tower  still  stand- 
ing, and  beside  it  a  huge  dome  surmounted  by  a  pin- 
point Colossus.  And  he  perceived,  too,  though  he  did 
not  understand  it  at  the  time,  a  slanting  drift  of  smoke. 
The  aeronaut  said  something  about  *'  trouble  in  the 
underways,"  that  Graham  did  not  heed  at  the  time. 
But  he  marked  the  minarets  and  towers  and  slender 
masses  that  streamed  skyward  above  the  city  wind- 
vanes,  and  knew  that  in  the  mattter  of  grace  at  least 
Paris  still  kept  in  front  of  her  larger  rival.  And  even 
as  he  looked  a  pale  blue  shape  ascended  very  swiftly 
from  the  city  like  a  dead  leaf  driving  up  before  a  gale. 
It  curved  round  and  soared  towards  them  growing 
rapidly  larger  and  larger.  The  aeronaut  was  saying 
something.     "What?"  said  Graham,  loth  to  take  his 

206 


THE  AEROPILE 

eyes  from  this.    "  Aeroplane,  Sire,"  bawled  the  aero- 
naut pointing. 

They  rose  and  curved  about  northward  as  it  drew 
nearer.  Nearer  it  came  and  nearer,  larger  and  larger. 
The  throb,  throb,  throb  —  beat,  of  the  aeropile's 
flight,  that  had  seemed  so  potent  and  so  swift,  sud- 
denly appeared  slow  by  comparison  with  this  tre- 
mendous rush.  How  great  the  monster  seemed,  how 
swift  and  steady!  It  passed  quite  closely  beneath 
them,  driving  along  silently,  a  vast  spread  of  wire- 
netted  translucent  wings,  a  thing  alive.  Graham  had  a 
momentary  glimpse  of  the  rows  and  rows  of  wrapped- 
up  passengers,  slung  in  their  little  cradles  behind 
wind-screens,  of  a  white-clothed  engineer  crawling 
against  the  gale  along  a  ladder  way,  of  spouting 
engines  beating  together,  of  the  whirling  wind  screw, 
and  of  a  wide  waste  of  wing.  He  exulted  in  the  sight. 
And  in  an  instant  the  thing  had  passed. 

It  rose  slightly  and  their  own  little  wings  swayed 
in  the  rush  of  its  flight.  It  fell  and  grew  smaller. 
Scarcely  had  they  moved,  as  it  seemed,  before  it  was 
again  only  a  flat  blue  thing  that  dwindled  in  the  sky. 
This  was  the  aeroplane  that  went  to  and  fro  between 
London  and  Paris.  In  fair  weather  and  in  peaceful 
times  it  came  and  went  four  times  a  day. 

They  beat  across  the  Channel,  slowly  as  it  seemed 
now,  to  Graham's  enlarged  ideas,  and  Beachy  Head 
rose  greyly  to  the  left  of  them. 

"  Land,"  called  the  aeronaut,  his  voice  small  against 
the  whistling  of  the  air  over  the  wind-screen. 

"  Not  yet,"  bawled  Graham,  laughing.  "  Not  land 
yet.     I  want  to  learn  more  of  this  machine." 

207 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  I  meant  — "  said  the  aeronaut. 

"  I  want  to  learn  more  of  this  machine,"  repeated 
Graham. 

"  I'm  coming  to  you,"  he  said,  and  had  flung  him- 
self free  of  his  chair  and  taken  a  step  along  the  guarded 
rail  between  them.  He  stopped  for  a  moment,  and 
his  colour  changed  and  his  hands  tightened.  Another 
step  and  he  was  clinging  close  to  the  aeronaut.  He 
felt  a  weight  on  his  shoulder,  the  pressure  of  the  air. 
His  hat  was  a  whirling  speck  behind.  The  wind  came 
in  gusts  over  his  wind-screen  and  blew  his  hair  in 
streamers  past  his  cheek.  The  aeronaut  made  some 
hasty  adjustments  for  the  shifting  of  the  centres  of 
gravity  and  pressure. 

"  I  want  to  have  these  things  explained,"  said  Gra- 
ham. "  What  do  you  do  when  you  move  that  engine 
fonvard?  " 

The  aeronaut  hesitated.  Then  he  answered,  "  They 
are  complex,  Sire." 

"  I  don't  mind,"'  shouted  Graham.    "  I  don't  mind." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  "  Aeronautics  is  the 
secret  —  the  privilege  — " 

"  I  know.  But  I'm  the  Master,  and  I  mean  to 
know."  He  laughed,  full  of  this  novel  realisation  of 
power  that  was  his  gift  from  the  upper  air. 

The  aeropile  curved  about,  and  the  keen  fresh  wind 
cut  across  Graham's  face  and  his  garment  lugged  at 
his  body  as  the  stem  pointed  round  to  the  west.  The 
two  men  looked  into  each  other's  eyes. 

"  Sire,  there  are  rules  — " 

"  Not  where  I  am  concerned,"  said  Graham.  "  You 
seem  to  forget." 

208 


THE  AEROPILE 

The  aeronaut  scrutinised  his  face.  "  No,"  he  said. 
"  I  do  not  forget,  Sire.  But  in  all  the  earth  —  no  man 
who  is  not  a  sworn  aeronaut  —  has  ever  a  chance. 
They  come  as  passengers  — " 

"  I  have  heard  something  of  the  sort.  But  I'm  not 
going  to  argue  these  points.  Do  you  know  why  I 
have  slept  two  hundred  years?    To  fly!  " 

"  Sire,"  said  the  aeronaut,  "  the  rules  —  if  I  break 
the  rules  — " 

Graham  waved  the  penalties  aside. 

"Then  if  you  will  watch  me — " 

"  No,"  said  Graham,  swaying  and  gripping  tight  as 
the  machine  lifted  its  nose  again  for  an  ascent. 
"  That's  not  my  game.  I  want  to  do  it  myself.  Do 
it  myself  if  I  smash  for  it!  No!  I  will.  See.  I  am 
going  to  clamber  by  this  —  to  come  and  share  your 
seat.  Steady!  I  mean  to  fly  of  my  own  accord  if 
I  smash  at  the  end  of  it.  I  will  have  something  to  pay 
for  my  sleep.  Of  all  other  things  — .  In  my  past  it 
was  my  dream  to  fly.     Now  —  keep  your  balance." 

"  A  dozen  spies  are  watching  me,  Sire!  " 

Graham's  temper  was  at  end.  Perhaps  he  chose  it 
should  be.  He  swore.  He  swung  himself  round  the 
intervening  mass  of  levers  and  the  aeropilc  swayed. 

"  Am  I  Master  of  the  earth?  "  he  said.  "  Or  is  your 
Society?  Now.  Take  your  hands  ofif  those  levers, 
and  hold  my  wrists.  Yes  —  so.  And  now,  how  do 
we  turn  her  nose  down  to  the  glide?  " 

"  Sire,"  said  the  aeronaut. 

"  What  is  it?  " 

"  You  will  protect  me?  " 

"Lord!  Yes!  If  I  have  to  burn  London.  Now!" 
209  o 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

And  with  that  promise  Graham  bought  his  first  les- 
son in  aerial  navigation.  "It's  clearly  to  your  advantage, 
this  journey,"  he  said  with  a  loud  laugh  —  for  the  air 
was  like  strong  wine  —  "  to  teach  me  quickly  and  well. 
Do  I  pull  this?    Ah!     So!     Hullo!" 

"Back,  Sire!     Back!" 

"  Back  —  right  One  —  two  —  three  —  good 
God!    Ah!    Up  she  goes!    But  this  is  living!" 

And  now  the  machine  began  to  dance  the  strangest 
figures  in  the  air.  Now  it  would  sweep  round  a  spiral 
of  scarcely  a  hundred  yards  diameter,  now  it  would 
rush  up  into  the  air  and  swoop  down  again,  steeply, 
swiftly,  falling  like  a  hawk,  to  recover  in  a  rushing  loop 
that  swept  it  high  again.  In  one  of  these  descents 
it  seemed  driving  straight  at  the  drifting  park  of  bal- 
loons in  the  southeast,  and  only  curved  about  and 
cleared  them  by  a  sudden  recovery  of  dexterity.  The 
extraordinary  swiftness  and  smoothness  of  the  motion, 
the  extraordinary  effect  of  the  rarefied  air  upon  his 
constitution,  threw  Graham  into  a  careless  fury. 

But  at  last  a  queer  incident  came  to  sober  him,  to 
send  him  flying  down  once  more  to  the  crowded  life 
below  with  all  its  dark  insoluble  riddles.  As  he 
swooped,  came  a  tap  and  something  flying  past,  and 
a  drop  like  a  drop  of  rain.  Then  as  he  went  on  down 
he  saw  something  like  a  white  rag  whirling  down  in 
his  wake.  "  What  was  that?  "  he  asked.  "  I  did  not 
see." 

The  aeronaut  glanced,  and  then  clutched  at  the 
lever  to  recover,  for  they  were  sweeping  down.  When 
the  aeropile  was  rising  again  he  drew  a  deep  breath 

2IO 


THE  AEROPILE 

and  replied,  "  That,"  and  he  indicated  the  white 
thing  still  fluttering  down,  "  was  a  swan." 

"  I  never  saw  it,"  said  Graham. 

The  aeronaut  made  no  answer,  and  Graham  saw 
little  drops  upon  his  forehead. 

They  drove  horizontally  while  Graham  clambered 
back  to  the  passenger's  place  out  of  the  lash  of  the 
wind.  And  then  came  a  swift  rush  down,  with  the 
wind-screw  whirling  to  check  their  fall,  and  the  flying 
stage  growing  broad  and  dark  before  them.  The  sun, 
sinking  over  the  chalk  hills  in  the  west,  fell  with  them, 
and  left  the  sky  a  blaze  of  gold. 

Soon  men  could  be  seen  as  little  specks.  He  heard 
a  noise  coming  up  to  meet  him,  a  noise  Hke  the  sound 
of  waves  upon  a  pebbly  beach,  and  saw  that  the  roofs 
about  the  flying  stage  were  dark  with  his  people 
rejoicing  over  his  safe  return.  A  dark  mass  was 
crushed  together  under  the  stage,  a  darkness  stippled 
with  innumerable  faces,  and  quivering  with  the  minute 
oscillation  of  waved  white  handkerchiefs  and  waving 
hands. 


211 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THREE  DAYS 

Lincoln  awaited  Graham  in  an  apartment  beneath 
the  flying  stages.  He  seemed  curious  to  learn  all  that 
had  happened,  pleased  to  hear  of  the  extraordinary 
delight  and  interest  which  Graham  took  in  flying. 
Graham  was  in  a  mood  of  enthusiasm.  "  I  must  learn 
to  fly,"  he  cried.  "  I  must  master  that.  I  pity  all  poor 
souls  who  have  died  without  this  opportunity.  The 
sweet  swift  air!  It  is  the  most  wonderful  experience 
in  the  world." 

"  You  will  find  our  new  times  full  of  wonderful 
experiences,"  said  Lincoln.  "  I  do  not  know  what  you 
will  care  to  do  now.  We  have  music  that  may  seem 
novel." 

"  For  the  present,"  said  Graham,  "  flying  holds  me. 
Let  me  learn  more  of  that.  Your  aeronaut  w^as  saying 
there  is  some  trades  union  objection  to  one's  learning." 

"  There  is,  I  believe,"  said  Lincoln.  "  But  for 
you  —  !  If  you  would  like  to  occupy  yourself  with 
that,  we  can  make  you  a  sworn  aeronaut  tomorrow." 

Graham  expressed  his  wishes  vividly  and  talked  of 
his  sensations  for  a  while.  "  And  as  for  affairs,"  he 
asked  abruptly.    "  How  are  things  going  on?  " 

Lincoln  waved  affairs  aside.  "  Ostrog  will  tell  you 
that  tomorrow."  he  said.  "  Everything  is  settling 
down.     The  Revolution  accomplishes  itself  all  over 


THREE  DAYS 

the  world.  Friction  is  inevitable  here  and  there,  of 
course;  but  your  rule  is  assured.  You  may  rest  secure 
with  thing's  in  Ostrog's  hands." 

"  Would  it  be  possible  for  me  to  be  made  a  sworn 
aeronaut,  as  you  call  it,  forthwith  —  before  I  sleep?" 
said  Graham,  pacing.  "  Then  I  could  be  at  it  the  very 
first  thing  tomorrow  again.    .    .    . 

**  It  would  be  possible,"  said  Lincoln  thoughtfully. 
"  Quite  possible.  Indeed,  it  shall  be  done."  He 
laughed.  "  I  came  prepared  to  suggest  amusements, 
but  you  have  found  one  for  yourself.  I  will  telephone 
to  the  aeronautical  offices  from  here  and  we  will  return 
to  your  apartments  in  the  Wind-Vane  Control.  By 
the  time  you  have  dined  the  aeronauts  will  be  able  to 
come.  You  don't  think  that  after  you  have  dined,  you 
might  prefer — ?  "    He  paused. 

"  Yes,"  said  Graham. 

"  We  had  prepared  a  show  of  dancers  —  they  have 
been  brought  from  the  Capri  theatre." 

*'  I  hate  ballets,"  said  Graham,  shortly.  "  Always 
did.  That  other  — .  That's  not  what  I  want  to  see. 
We  had  dancers  in  the  old  days.  For  the  matter  of 
that,  they  had  them  in  ancient  Egypt.    But  flying  — " 

"  True,"  said  Lincoln.    **  Though  our  dancers  — " 

"  They  can  afford  to  wait,"  said  Graham ;  "  they  can 
afford  to  wait.  I  know.  I'm  not  a  Latin.  There's 
questions  I  want  to  ask  some  expert  —  about  your 
machinery.     I'm  keen.     I  want  no  distractions.'' 

"  You  have  the  world  to  choose  from,"  said  Lincoln; 
"  whatever  you  want  is  yours." 

Asano  appeared,  and  under  the  escort  of  a  strong 
guard  they  returned  through  the  city  streets  to  Gra- 

213 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

ham's  apartments.  Far  larger  crowds  had  assembled  to 
witness  his  return  than  his  departure  had  gathered,  and 
the  shouts  and  cheering  of  these  masses  of  people 
sometimes  drowned  Lincoln's  answers  to  the  endless 
questions  Graham's  aerial  journey  had  suggested.  At 
first  Graham  had  acknowledged  the  cheering  and  cries 
of  the  crowd  by  bows  and  gestures,  but  Lincoln 
warned  him  that  such  a  recognition  would  be  con- 
sidered incorrect  behaviour.  Graham,  already  a  little 
wearied  by  rhythmic  civilities,  ignored  his  subjects  for 
the  remainder  of  his  public  progress. 

Directly  they  arrived  at  his  apartments  Asano  de- 
parted in  search  of  kinematographic  renderings  of 
machinery  in  motion,  and  Lincoln  despatched  Gra- 
ham's commands  for  models  of  machines  and  small 
machines  to  illustrate  the  various  mechanical  advances 
of  the  last  two  centuries.  The  little  group  of  appli- 
ances for  telegraphic  communication  attracted  the 
Master  so  strongly  that  his  delightfully  prepared  din- 
ner, served  by  a  number  of  charmingly  dexterous 
girls,  waited  for  a  space.  The  habit  of  smoking  had 
almost  ceased  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  but  when  he 
expressed  a  wish  for  that  indulgence,  inquiries  were 
made  and  some  excellent  cigars  were  discovered  in 
Florida,  and  sent  to  him  by  pneumatic  despatch  while 
the  dinner  was  still  in  progress.  Afterwards  came  the 
aeronauts,  and  a  feast  of  ingenious  wonders  in  the 
hands  of  a  latter-day  engineer.  For  the  time,  at  any 
rate,  the  neat  dexterity  of  counting  and  numbering 
machines,  building  machines,  spinning  engines,  pa- 
tent doorways,  explosive  motors,  grain  and  water  ele- 
vators, slaughter-house  machines  and  harvesting  appli- 

214 


THREE  DAYS 

ances,  was  more  fascinating  to  Graham  than  any 
bayadere,  "  We  were  savages,"  was  his  refrain,  "  we 
were  savages.  We  were  in  the  stone  age  —  compared 
with  this.    .    .    .    And  what  else  have  you?  " 

There  came  also  practical  psychologists  with  some 
very  interesting  developments  in  the  art  of  hypnotism. 
The    names    of   Milne  Bramwell,  Fechner,  Liebault, 
William  James,  Myers  and  Gurney,  he  found,  bore  a 
value  now  that  would  have  astonished  their  contem- 
poraries.    Several   practical   applications  of  psychol- 
ogy were  now  in  general  use;  it  had  largely  super- 
seded  drugs,    antiseptics    and    anaesthetics    in   medi- 
cine; was  employed  by  almost  all  who  had  any  need  of 
mental  concentration,    A  real  enlargement  of  human 
faculty  seemed  to  have  been  effected  in  this  direction. 
The  feats  of  "  calculating  boys,"  the  wonders,  as  Gra- 
ham had  been  wont  to  regard  them,  of  mesmerisers, 
were  now  within  the  range  of  anyone  who  could  afford 
the  services  of  a  skilled  hypnotist.    Long  ago  the  old 
examination  methods  in  education  had  been  destroyed 
by  these  expedients.     Instead  of  years  of  study,  cam 
didates  had  substituted  a  few  weeks  of  trances,    anJl 
during  the  trances  expert  coaches  had  simply  to  repeat 
all  the  points  necessary  for  adequate  answering,  add- 
ing a  suggestion  of  the  post  hypnotic  recollection  of 
these  points.    In  process  mathematics  particularly,  this 
aid  had  been  of  singular  service,  and  it  was  now  invari- 
ably invoked    by  such  players  of    chess  and    games 
of  manual  dexterity  as  were  still  to  be  found.    In  fact, 
all  operations  conducted  under  finite  rules,  of  a  quasi- 
mechanical  sort  that  is,  were  now  systematically  re- 
lieved from  the  wanderings  of  imagination  and  emo- 

215 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

tion,  and  brought  to  an  unexampled  pitch  of  accuracy. 
Little  children  of  the  labouring  classes,  so  soon  as  they 
were  of  sufificient  age  to  be  hypnotised,  were  thus  con- 
verted into  beautifully  punctual  and  trustworthy 
machine  minders,  and  released  forthwith  from  the 
long,  long  thoughts  of  youth.  Aeronautical  pupils, 
who  gave  way  to  giddiness,  could  be  relieved  from 
their  imaginary  terrors.  In  every  street  were  hypno- 
tists ready  to  print  permanent  memories  upon  the 
mind.  If  anyone  desired  to  remember  a  name,  a  series 
of  numbers,  a  song  or  a  speech,  it  could  be  done  by 
this  method,  and  conversely  memories  could  be 
effaced,  habits  removed,  and  desires  eradicated  —  a 
sort  of  psychic  surgery  was,  in  fact,  in  general  use. 
Indignities,  humbling  experiences,  were  thus  forgot- 
ten, amorous  widows  would  obliterate  their  previous 
husbands,  angry  lovers  release  themselves  from  their 
slavery.  To  graft  desires,  however,  was  still  impossible, 
and  the  facts  of  thought  transference  were  yet  unsys- 
tematised.  The  psychologists  illustrated  their  exposi- 
tions with  some  astounding  experiments  in  mnemonics 
made  through  the  agency  of  a  troupe  of  pale-faced 
children  in  blue. 

Graham,  like  most  of  the  people  of  his  former  time, 
distrusted  the  hypnotist,  or  he  might  then  and  there 
have  eased  his  mind  of  many  painful  preoccupations. 
But  in  spite  of  Lincoln's  assurances  he  held  to  the  old 
theory  that  to  be  hypnotised  was  in  some  way  the  sur- 
render of  his  personality,  the  abdication  of  his  will.  At 
the  banquet  of  wonderful  experiences  that  was  begin- 
ning, he  wanted  very  keenly  to  remain  absolutely 
himself. 

2X6 


THREE  DAYS 

The  next  day,  and  another  day,  and  yet  another  day 
passed  in  such  interests  as  these.  Each  day  Graham 
spent  many  hours  in  the  glorious  entertainment  of 
flying.  On  the  third  day  he  soared  across  middle 
France,  and  within  sight  of  the  snow-clad  Alps.  These 
vigorous  exercises  gave  him  restful  sleep,  and  each  day 
saw  a  great  stride  in  his  health  from  the  spiritless 
anaemia  of  his  first  awakening.  And  whenever  he  was 
not  in  the  air,  and  awake,  Lincoln  was  assiduous  in  the 
cause  of  his  amusement;  all  that  was  novel  and  curious 
in  contemporary  invention  was  brought  to  him,  until 
at  last  his  appetite  for  novelty  was  well-nigh  glutted. 
One  might  fill  a  dozen  inconsecutive  volumes  with  the 
strange  things  they  exhibited.  Each  afternoon  he  held 
his  court  for  an  hour  or  so.  He  speedily  found  his 
interest  in  his  contemporaries  becoming  personal  and 
intimate.  At  first  he  had  been  alert  chiefly  for  unfa- 
miliarity  and  peculiarity;  any  foppishness  in  their 
dress,  any  discordance  with  his  preconceptions  of 
nobility  in  their  status  and  manners  had  jarred  upon 
him,  and  it  was  remarkable  to  him  how  soon  that 
strangeness  and  the  faint  hostility  that  arose  from  it, 
disappeared;  how  soon  he  came  to  appreciate  the  true 
perspective  of  his  position,  and  see  the  old  Victorian 
days  remote  and  quaint.  He  found  himself  partic- 
ularly amused  by  the  red-haired  daughter  of  the  Man- 
ager of  the  European  Piggeries.  On  the  second  day 
after  dinner  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  latter-day 
dancing  girl,  and  found  her  an  astonishing  artist.  And 
after  that,  more  hypnotic  wonders.  On  the  third  day 
Lincoln  was  moved  to  suggest  that  the  Master  should 
repair  to  a  Pleasure  City,  but  this  Graham  declined, 

217 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

nor  would  he  accept  the  services  of  the  hypnotists  in 
his  aeronautical  experiments.  The  link  of  locality  held 
him  to  London ;  he  found  a  perpetual  wonder  in  topo- 
graphical identifications  that  he  would  have  missed 
abroad,  "  Here  —  or  a  hundred  feet  below  here,"  he 
could  say,  "  I  used  to  eat  my  midday  cutlets  dunng 
my  London  University  days.  Underneath  here  was 
Waterloo  and  the  perpetual  hunt  for  confusing  trains. 
Often  have  I  stood  waiting  down  there,  bag  in  hand, 
and  stared  up  into  the  sky  above  the  forest  of  signals, 
little  thinking  I  should  walk  some  day  a  hundred  yards 
in  the  air.  And  now  in  that  very  sky  that  was  once  a 
grey  smoke  canopy,  I  circle  in  an  aeropile." 

During  those  three  days  Graham  was  so  occupied 
with  such  distractions  that  the  vast  political  move- 
ments in  progress  outside  his  quarters  had  but  a  small 
share  of  his  attention.  Those  about  him  told  him 
little.  Daily  came  Ostrog,  the  Boss,  his  Grand  Vizier, 
his  mayor  of  the  palace,  to  report  in  vague  terms  the 
steady  establishment  of  his  rule;  "a  little  trouble" 
soon  to  be  settled  in  this  city,  "  a  slight  disturbance  " 
in  that.  The  song  of  the  social  revolt  came  to  him  no 
more;  he  never  learned  that  it  had  been  forbidden  in 
the  municipal  limits;  and  all  the  great  emotions  of  the 
crow's  nest  slumbered  in  his  mind. 

But  on  the  second  and  third  of  the  three  days 
he  found  himself,  in  spite  of  his  interest  in  the 
daughter  of  the  Pig  Manager,  or  it  may  be  by 
reason  of  the  thoughts  her  conversation  suggested, 
remembering  the  girl  Helen  Wotton,  who  had 
spoken  to  him  so  oddly  at  the  Wind-Vane  Keep- 
er's gathering.    The  impression  she  had  made  was  a 

218 


THREE  DAYS 

deep  one,  albeit  the  incessant  surprise  of  novel  circum- 
stances had  kept  him  from  brooding-  upon  it  for  a 
space.  But  now  her  memory  was  coming  to  its  own. 
He  wondered  what  she  had  meant  by  those  broken 
half-forgotten  sentences;  the  picture  of  her  eyes  and 
the  earnest  passion  of  her  face  became  more  vivid  as 
his  mechanical  interests  faded.  Her  beauty  came  com- 
pellingly  between  him  and  certain  immediate  tempta- 
tions of  ignoble  passion.  But  he  did  not  see  her  again 
until  three  full  days  were  past. 


219 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
GRAHAM  REMEMBERS 

She  came  upon  him  at  last  in  a  Httle  gallery  that 
ran  from  the  Wind  Vane  Offices  toward  his  state 
apartments.  The  gallery  was  long  and  narrow,  with  a 
series  of  recesses,  each  with  an  arched  fenestration  that 
looked  upon  a  court  of  palms.  He  came  upon  her 
suddenly  in  one  of  these  recesses.  She  was  seated. 
She  turned  her  head  at  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  and 
started  at  the  sight  of  him.  Every  touch  of  colour 
vanished  from  her  face.  She  rose  instantly,  made  a 
step  toward  him  as  if  to  address  him,  and  hesitated. 
He  stopped  and  stood  still,  expectant.  Then  he  per- 
ceived that  a  nervous  tumult  silenced  her,  perceived 
too,  that  she  must  have  sought  speech  with  him  to  be 
waiting  for  him  in  this  place. 

He  felt  a  regal  impulse  to  assist  her.  "  I  have  wanted 
to  see  you,"  he  said.  "  A  few  days  ago  you  wanted 
to  tell  me  something  —  you  wanted  to  tell  me  of  the 
people.     What  was  it  you  had  to  tell  me?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  troubled  eyes. 

"  You  said  the  people  were  unhappy?  " 

For  a  moment  she  was  silent  still. 

"  It  must  have  seemed  strange  to  you,"  she  said 
abruptly. 

"  It  did.     And  yet  — " 

**  It  was  an  impulse." 

220 


GRAHAM  REMEMBERS 

"Well?" 

"  That  is  all." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  face  of  hesitation.  She 
spoke  with  an  effort.  "  You  forget,"  she  said,  drawing 
a  deep  breath. 

"  What?  " 

"  The  people  — " 

"  Do  you  mean  — ?  " 

"  You  forget  the  people." 

He  looked  interrogative. 

"  Yes.  I  know  you  are  surprised.  For  you  do  not 
understand  what  you  are.  You  do  not  know  the  things 
that  are  happening." 

"Well?" 

"  You  do  not  understand." 

"  Not  clearly,  perhaps.    But  —  tell  me." 

She  turned  to  him  with  sudden  resolution.  "  It  is 
so  hard  to  explain.  I  have  meant  to,  I  have  wanted  to. 
And  now  —  I  cannot.  I  am  not  ready  with  words. 
But  about  you  —  there  is  something.  It  is  Wonder. 
Your  sleep  —  your  awakening.  These  things  are 
miracles.  To  me  at  least  —  and  to  all  the  common 
people.  You  who  lived  and  suffered  and  died,  you 
who  were  a  common  citizen,  wake  again,  live  again,  to 
find  yourself  Master  almost  of  the  earth." 

"  Master  of  the  earth,"  he  said.  "  So  they  tell  me. 
But  try  and  imagine  how  little  I  know  of  it." 

"  Cities  —  Trusts  —  the  Labour  Company  — " 

"  Principalities,  powers,  dominions  —  the  power  and 
the  glory.  Yes,  I  have  heard  them  shout.  I  know. 
I  am  Master.  King,  if  you  wish.  With  Ostrog,  the 
Boss  — " 

221 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

He  paused. 

She  turned  upon  him  and  surveyed  his  face  with  a 
curious  scrutiny.    "Well?" 

He  smiled.    "  To  take  the  responsibility." 

"That  is  what  we  have  begun  to  fear.''  For  a  moment 
she  said  no  more.  "  No,"  she  said  slowly.  "  You  will 
take  the  responsibility.  You  will  take  the  responsi- 
bility.   The  people  look  to  you." 

She  spoke  softly.  "Listen!  For  at  least  half  the 
years  of  your  sleep  —  in  every  generation  —  multi- 
tudes of  people,  in  every  generation  greater  multitudes 
of  people,  have  prayed  that  you  might  awake  — 
prayed." 

Graham  moved  to  speak  and  did  not. 

She  hesitated,  and  a  faint  colour  crept  back  to  her 
cheek.  "  Do  you  know  that  you  have  been  to  myriads 
—  King  Arthur,  Barbarossa  —  the  King  who  would 
come  in  his  own  good  time  and  put  the  world  right  for 
them?"  I 

"  I  suppose  the  imagination  of  the  people  — " 

"  Have  you  not  heard  our  proverb,  '  When  the 
Sleeper  wakes?'  While  you  lay  insensible  and  mo- 
tionless there  —  thousands  came.  Thousands.  Every 
first  of  the  month  you  lay  in  state  with  a  white  robe 
upon  you  and  the  people  filed  by  you.  When  I  was  a 
little  girl  I  saw  you  like  that,  with  your  face  white  and 
calm." 

She  turned  her  face  from  him  and  looked  steadfastly 
at  the  painted  wall  before  her.  Her  voice  fell.  "When 
I  was  a  little  girl  I  used  to  look  at  your  face.  ...  it 
seemed  to  me  fixed  and  waiting,  like  the  patience  of 
God." 

222 


GRAHAM  REMEMBERS 

"  That  is  what  we  thought  of  you,"  she  said.  "  That 
is  how  you  seemed  to  us." 

She  turned  shining  eyes  to  him,  her  voice  was  clear 
and  strong.  "  In  the  city,  in  the  earth,  a  myriad 
myriad  men  and  women  are  waiting  to  see  what  you 
will  do,  full  of  strange  incredible  expectations." 

"Yes?" 

"  Ostrog  —  no  one  —  can  take  that  responsibility." 

Graham  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  at  her  face  lit 
with  emotion.  She  seemed  at  first  to  have  spoken  with 
an  effort,  and  to  have  fired  herself  by  speaking. 

"  Do  you  think,"  she  said,  "  that  you  who  have  lived 
that  little  life  so  far  away  in  the  past,  you  who  have 
fallen  into  and  risen  out  of  this  miracle  of  sleep  —  do 
you  think  that  the  wonder  and  reverence  and  hope  of 
half  the  world  has  gathered  about  you  only  that  you 
may  live  another  little  life?  .  .  .  That  you  may 
shift  the  responsibility  to  any  other  man?  " 

"  I  know  how  great  this  kingship  of  mine  is,"  he 
said  haltingly.  "  I  know  how  great  it  seems.  But  is  it 
real?  It  is  incredible  —  dreamlike.  Is  it  real,  or  is 
it  only  a  great  delusion?  " 

"  It  is  real,"  she  said;  "  if  you  dare." 

"After  all,  like  all  kingship,  my  kingship  is  Belief. 
It  is  an  illusion  in  the  minds  of  men." 

"  If  you  dare!  "  she  said. 

"But—" 

"  Countless  men,"  she  said,  "  and  while  it  is  in  their 
minds  —  they  will  obey." 

"  But  I  know  nothing.  That  is  what  I  had  in  mind. 
I  know  nothing.  And  these  others  —  the  Councillors, 
Ostrog.    They  are  wiser,  cooler,  they  know  so  much, 

223 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

every  detail.  And,  indeed,  what  are  these  miseries  of 
which  you  speak?  What  am  I  to  know?  Do  you 
mean  — " 

He  stopped  blankly. 

"  I  am  still  hardly  more  than  a  girl,"  she  said.  "  But 
to  me  the  world  seems  full  of  wretchedness.  The  world 
has  altered  since  your  day,  altered  very  strangely.  I 
have  prayed  that  I  might  see  you  and  tell  you  these 
things.  The  world  has  changed.  As  if  a  canker  had 
seized  it  —  and  robbed  life  of  —  everything  worth 
having." 

She  turned  a  flushed  face  upon  him,  moving  sud- 
denly. "  Your  days  were  the  days  of  freedom.  Yes  — 
I  have  thought.  I  have  been  made  to  think,  for  my 
life  —  has  not  been  happy.  Men  are  no  longer  free  — 
no  greater,  no  better  than  the  men  of  your  time.  That 
is  not  all.  This  city  —  is  a  prison.  Every  city  now  is 
a  prison.  Mammon  grips  the  key  in  his  hand. 
Myriads,  countless  myriads,  toil  from  the  cradle  to 
the  grave.  Is  that  right?  Is  that  to  be  —  for  ever? 
Yes,  far  worse  than  in  your  time.  All  about  us,  be- 
neath us,  sorrow  and  pain.  All  the  shallow  delight  of 
such  life  as  you  find  about  you,  is  separated  by  just  a 
little  from  a  life  of  wretchedness  beyond  any  telling. 
Yes,  the  poor  know  it  —  they  know  they  suffer.  These 
countless  multitudes  who  faced  death  for  you  two 
nights  since  —  !     You  owe  your  life  to  them." 

"  Yes,"  said  Graham,  slowly.  "  Yes.  I  owe  my 
life  to  them." 

"  You  come,"  she  said,  "  from  the  days  when  this 
new  tyranny  of  the  cities  was  scarcely  beginning. 
It    is   a    tyranny  —  a    tyranny.      In    your    days    the 

224 


GRAHAM  REMEMBERS 

feudal  war  lords  had  gone,  and  the  new  lordship  of 
wealth  had  still  to  come.  Half  the  men  in  the  world 
still  lived  out  upon  the  free  countryside.  The  cities 
had  still  to  devour  them.  I  have  heard  the  stories 
out  of  the  old  books  —  there  was  nobility!  Common 
men  led  lives  of  love  and  faithfulness  then  —  they 
did  a  thousand  things.  And  you  —  you  come  from 
that  time." 

"It  was  not — .  But  never  mind.  How  is  it 
now — ?  " 

"Gain  and  the  Pleasure  Cities!  Or  slavery  —  un- 
thanked,  unhonoured,  slavery." 

"  Slavery!  "  he  said. 

"  Slavery." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  human  beings  are 
chattels." 

"  Worse.  That  is  what  I  want  you  to  know,  what 
I  want  you  to  see.  I  know  you  do  not  know.  They 
will  keep  things  from  you,  they  will  take  you  presently 
to  a  Pleasure  City.  But  you  have  noticed  men  and 
women  and  children  in  pale  blue  canvas,  with  thin 
yellow  faces  and  dull  eyes? " 

"  Everywhere." 

"  Speaking  a  horrible  dialect,  coarse  and  weak." 

"  I  have  heard  it." 

"  They  are  the  slaves  —  your  slaves.  They  are  the 
slaves  of  the  Labour  Company  you  own." 

"The  Labour  Company!  In  some  way  —  that  is 
familiar.  Ah !  now  I  remember.  I  saw  it  when  I  was 
wandering  about  the  city,  after  the  lights  returned, 
great  fronts  of  buildings  coloured  pale  blue.  Do  you 
really  mean  — ?  " 

22^  p 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"Yes.  How  can  I  explain  it  to  you?  Of  course 
the  blue  uniform  struck  you.  Nearly  a  third  of  our 
people  wear  it  —  more  assume  it  now  every  day.  This 
Labour  Company  has  grown  imperceptibly." 

"What  is  this  Labour  Company?"  asked  Graham. 

"  In  the  old  times,  how  did  you  manage  with  starv- 
ing people?" 

"  There  was  the  workhouse  —  which  the  parishes 
maintained." 

"Workhouse!  Yes  —  there  was  something.  In 
our  history  lessons.  I  remember  now.  The  Labour 
Company  ousted  the  workhouse.  It  grew  —  partly  — 
out  of  something  —  you,  perhaps,  may  remember  it  — 
an  emotional  religious  organisation  called  the  Salva- 
tion Army  —  that  became  a  business  company.  In  the 
first  place  it  was  almost  a  charity.  To  save  people 
from  workhouse  rigours.  Now  I  come  to  think  of  it, 
it  was  one  of  the  earliest  properties  your  Trustees  ac- 
quired. They  bought  the  Salvation  Army  and  recon- 
structed it  as  this.  The  idea  in  the  first  place  was  to 
give  work  to  starving  homeless  people." 

"  Yes." 

"  Nowadays  there  are  no  workhouses,  no  refuges 
and  charities,  nothing  but  that  Company.  Its  offices 
are  everywhere.  That  blue  is  its  colour.  And  any 
man,  woman  or  child  who  comes  to  be  hungry  and 
weary  and  with  neither  home  nor  friend  nor  resort, 
must  go  to  the  Company  in  the  end  —  or  seek  some 
way  of  death.  The  Euthanasy  is  beyond  their  means 
—  for  the  poor  there  is  no  easy  death.  And  at  any 
hour  in  the  day  or  night  there  is  food,  shelter  and  a 
blue  uniform  for  all  comers  —  that  is  the  first  condi- 

226 


GRAHAM  REMEMBERS 

tion  of  the  Company's  incorporation — and  in  return 
for  a  day's  shelter  the  Company  extracts  a  day's  work, 
and  then  returns  the  visitor's  proper  clothing  and 
sends  him  or  her  out  again." 

"Yes?" 

"  Perhaps  that  does  not  seem  so  terrible  to  you.    In 
your  days  men  starved  in  your  streets.     That  was  bad. 
But  they  died  —  men.    These  people  in  blue — .    The 
proverb  runs:     'Blue  canvas  once  and  ever.'     The 
Company  trades  in  their  labour,  and  it  has  taken  care 
to    assure    itself    of    the    supply.      People    come    to 
it    starving    and    helpless  —  they    eat    and    sleep    for 
a  night   and    day,  they  work    for  a    day,  and  at   the 
end  of  the  day  they  go  out  again.    If  they  have  worked 
well    they    have    a    penny    or    so  —  enough    for    a 
theatre  or  a  cheap  dancing  place,  or  a  kinematograph 
story,  or  a  dinner  or  a  bet.    They  wander  about  after 
that  is  spent.     Begging  is  prevented  by  the  police  of 
the  ways.     Besides,  no  one  gives.     They  come  back 
again  the  next  day  or  the  day  after  —  brought  back 
by  the  same  incapacity  that  brought  them  first.     At 
last  their  proper  clothing  wears  out,  or  their  rags  get 
so  shabby  that  they  are  ashamed.     Then  they  must 
work  for  months  to  get  fresh.    If  they  want  fresh. .  A 
great  number  of  children  are  born  under  the  Com- 
pany's care.    The  mother  owes  them  a  month  there- 
after —  the  children  they  cherish   and  educate  until 
they  are  fourteen,  and  they  pay  two  years'  service. 
You  may  be  sure  these  children  are  educated  for  the 
blue  canvas.    And  so  it  is  the  Company  works." 
"And  none  are  destitute  in  the  city?" 
227 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  None.  They  are  either  in  bkie  canvas  or  in 
prison." 

"  If  they  will  not  work?  " 

"  Most  people  will  work  at  that  pitch,  and  the  Com- 
pany has  powers.  There  are  stages  of  unpleasantness 
in  the  work  —  stoppage  of  food  —  and  a  man  or 
woman  who  has  refused  to  work  once  is  known  by  a 
thumb-marking  system  in  the  Company's  offices  all 
over  the  world.  Besides,  who  can  leave  the  city 
poor?  To  go  to  Paris  costs  two  Lions.  And  for  in- 
subordination there  are  the  prisons  —  dark  and  miser- 
able —  out  of  sight  below.  There  are  prisons  now  for 
many  things." 

"  And  a  third  of  the  people  wear  this  blue  canvas?  " 

"  More  than  a  third.  Toilers,  living  without  pride  or 
delight  or  hope,  with  the  stories  of  Pleasure  Cities  ring- 
ing in  their  ears,  mocking  their  shameful  lives,  their 
privations  and  hardships.  Too  poor  even  for  the 
Euthanasy,  the  rich  man's  refuge  from  life.  Dumb, 
crippled  millions,  countless  millions,  all  the  world 
about,  ignorant  of  anything  but  limitations  and  unsat- 
isfied desires.  They  are  born,  they  are  thwarted  and 
they  die.     That  is  the  state  to  which  we  have  come." 

For  a  space  Graham  sat  downcast. 

*'  But  there  has  been  a  revolution,"  he  said.  "  All 
these  things  will  be  changed.     "  Ostrog — " 

"  That  is  our  hope.  That  is  the  hope  of  the  world. 
But  Ostrog  will  not  do  it.  He  is  a  politician.  To  him 
it  seems  things  must  be  like  this.  He  does  not  mind. 
He  takes  it  for  granted.  All  the  rich,  all  the  influen- 
tial, all  who  are  happy,  come  at  last  to  take  these  mis- 
eries for  granted.     They  use  the  people  in  their  pol- 

228 


GRAHAM  REMEMBERS 

itics,  they  live  in  ease  by  their  degradation.  But  you 
—  you  who  come  from  a  happier  age  —  it  is  to  you  the 
people  look.    To  you." 

He  looked  at  her  face.  Her  eyes  were  bright  with 
unshed  tears.  He  felt  a  rush  of  emotion.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  forgot  this  city,  he  forgot  the  race,  and  all 
those  vague  remote  voices,  in  the  immediate  humanity 
of  her  beauty. 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do?  "  he  said  with  his  eyes  upon 
her. 

"  Rule,"  she  answered,  bending  towards  him  and 
speaking  in  a  low  tone.  "  Rule  the  world  as  it  has 
never  been  ruled,  for  the  good  and  happiness  of  men. 
For  you  might  rule  it  —  you  could  rule  it. 

"The  people  are  stirring.  All  over  the  world  the 
people  are  stirring.  It  wants  but  a  word  —  but  a 
word  from  you  —  to  bring  them  all  together.  Even 
the  middle  sort  of  people  are  restless  —  unhappy. 

"  They  are  not  telling  you  the  things  that  are  hap- 
pening. The  people  will  not  go  back  to  their  drudg- 
ery—  they  refuse  to  be  disarmed.  Ostrog  has 
awakened  something  greater  than  he  dreamt  of  —  he 
has  awakened  hopes." 

His  heart  was  beating  fast.  He  tried  to  seem  judi- 
cial, to  weigh  considerations. 

"  They  only  want  their  leader,"  she  said. 

"And  then?" 

"  You  could  do  what  you  would ;  —  the  world  is 
yours." 

He  sat,  no  longer  regarding  her.  Presently  he 
spoke.     "  The    old    dreams,    and    the    thing    I    have 

229 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

dreamt,  liberty,  happiness.  Are  they  dreams?  Could 
one  man  —  one  man  — ?  "     His  voice  sank  and  ceased. 

"  Not  one  man,  but  all  men  —  give  them  only  a 
leader  to  speak  the  desire  of  their  hearts." 

He  shook  his  head,  and  for  a  time  there  was  silence. 

He  looked  up  suddenly,  and  their  eyes  met.  "  I 
have  not  your  faith,"  he  said.  "  I  have  not  your  youth. 
I  am  here  with  power  that  mocks  me.  No  —  let  me 
speak.  I  want  to  do  —  not  right  —  I  have  not  the 
strength  for  that  —  but  something  rather  right  than 
wrong.  It  will  bring  no  millenium,  but  I  am  resolved 
now  that  I  will  rule.  What  you  have  said  has 
awakened  me.  .  .  .  You  are  right.  Ostrog  must 
know  his  place.  And  I  will  learn  — .  .  .  .  One 
thing  I  promise  you.    This  Labour  slavery  shall  end." 

"And  you  will  rule?" 

"  Yes.     Provided  — .     There  is  one  thing." 

"Yes?" 

"  That  you  will  help  me." 

"/.'  —  a  girl!" 

"  Yes.  Does  it  not  occur  to  you  I  am  absolutely 
alone?" 

She  started  and  for  an  instant  her  eyes  had  pity. 
"Need  you  ask  whether  I  will  help  you?"  she  said. 

She  stood  before  him,  beautiful,  worshipful,  and  her 
enthusiasm  and  the  greatness  of  their  theme  was  like 
a  great  gulf  fixed  between  them.  To  touch  her,  to 
clasp  her  hand,  was  a  thing  beyond  hope.  "Then 
I  will  rule  indeed,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I  will  rule  — " 
He  paused.     "  With  you." 

There  came  a  tense  silence,  and  then  the  beating  of 
230 


GRAHAM  REMEMBERS 

a  clock  striking  the  hour.  She  made  him  no  answer. 
Graham  rose. 

"  Even  now,"  he  said,  "  Ostrog  will  be  waiting."  He 
hesitated,  facing  her.  "When  I  have  asked  him  certain 
questions  — .  There  is  much  I  do  not  know.  It  may 
be,  that  I  will  go  to  see  with  my  own  eyes  the  things 
of  which  you  have  spoken.     And  when  I  return  — ?  " 

"  I  shall  know  of  your  going  and  coming.  I  will 
wait  for  you  here  again." 

He  stood  for  a  moment  regarding  her. 

"  I  knew,"  she  said,  and  stopped. 

He  waited,  but  she  said  no  more.  They  regarded 
one  another  steadfastly,  questioningly,  and  then  he 
turned  from  her  towards  the  Wind  Vane  office. 


231 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ostrog's  point  of  view 

Graham  found  Ostrog  waiting  to  give  a  formal  ac- 
count of  his  day's  stewardship.  On  previous  occasions  he 
had  passed  over  this  ceremony  as  speedily  as  possible, 
in  order  to  resume  his  aerial  experiences,  but  now  he 
began  to  ask  quick  short  questions.  He  was  very 
anxious  to  take  up  his  empire  forthwith.  Ostrog 
brought  flattering  reports  of  the  development  of 
affairs  abroad.  In  Paris  and  Berlin,  Graham 
perceived  that  he  was  saying,  there  had  been 
trouble,  not  organised  resistance  indeed,  but  in- 
subordinate proceedings.  "  After  all  these  years," 
said  Ostrog,  when  Graham  pressed  enquiries; 
"  the  Commune  has  lifted  its  head  again.  That 
is  the  real  nature  of  the  struggle,  to  be  explicit." 
But  order  had  been  restored  in  these  cities.  Graham, 
the  more  deliberately  judicial  for  the  stirring  emotions 
he  felt,  asked  if  there  had  been  any  fighting,  "  A 
little,"  said  Ostrog.  "  In  one  quarter  only.  But  the 
Senegalese  division  of  our  African  agricultural  police — 
the  Consolidated  African  Companies  have  a  very  well 
drilled  police  —  was  ready,  and  so  were  the  aeroplanes. 
We  expected  a  little  trouble  in  the  continental  cities, 
and  in  America.  But  things  are  very  quiet  in  America. 
They  are  satisfied  with  the  overthrow  of  the  Council. 
For  the  time." 

232 


OSTROG'S  POINT  OF  VIEW 

"  Why  should  you  expect  trouble?  "  asked  Graham 
abruptly. 

"There  is  a  lot  of  discontent  —  social  discontent." 

"The  Labour  Company?" 

"  You  are  learning-,"  said  Ostrog  with  a  touch  of 
surprise.  "  Yes.  It  is  chiefly  the  discontent  with  the 
Labour  Company.  It  was  that  discontent  supplied 
the  motive  force  gf  this  overthrow  —  that  and  your 
awakening." 

"Yes?" 

Ostrog  smiled.  He  became  explicit.  "  We  had  to 
stir  up  their  discontent,  we  had  to  revive  the  old  ideals 
of  universal  happiness  —  all  men  equal  —  all  men 
happy  —  no  luxury  that  everyone  may  not  share  — 
ideas  that  have  slumbered  for  two  hundred  years.  You 
know  that?  We  had  to  revive  these  ideals,  impossible 
as  they  are  —  in  order  to  overthrow  the  Council.  And 
now  — " 

"Well?" 

"  Our  revolution  is  accomplished,  and  the  Council 
is  overthrown,  and  people  whom  we  have  stirred  up  — 
remain  surging.  There  was  scarcely  enough  fight- 
ing' .  .  .  We  made  promises,  of  course.  It  is 
extraordinary  how  violently  and  rapidly  this  vague 
out-of-date  humanitarianism  has  revived  and  spread. 
W^e  who  sowed  the  seed  even,  have  been  astonished. 
In  Paris,  as  I  say  —  we  have  had  to  call  in  a  little  ex- 
ternal help." 

"And  here?" 

"  There  is  trouble.  Multitudes  will  not  go  back 
to  work.  There  is  a  general  strike.  Half  the  fac- 
tories are  empty  and  the  people  are  swarming  in  the 

233 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Ways.  They  are  talking  of  a  Commune.  Men  in  silk 
and  satin  have  been  insulted  in  the  streets.  The  blue 
canvas  is  expecting  all  sorts  of  things  from  you.  .  .  . 
Of  course  there  is  no  need  for  you  to  trouble.  We 
are  setting  the  Babble  Machines  to  work  with  counter 
suggestions  in  the  cause  of  law  and  order.  We  must 
keep  the  grip  tight;  that  is  all." 

Graham  thought.  He  perceived  a  way  of  asserting 
himself.     But  he  spoke  with  restraint. 

"  Even  to  the  pitch  of  bringing  a  negro  police,"  he 
said. 

"  They  are  useful,"  said  Ostrog,  "  They  are  fine 
loyal  brutes,  with  no  wash  of  ideas  in  their  heads  — 
such  as  our  rabble  has.  The  Council  should  have  had 
them  as  police  of  the  Ways,  and  things  might  have  been 
different.  Of  course,  there  is  nothing  to  fear  except 
rioting  and  wreckage.  You  can  manage  your  own 
wings  now,  and  you  can  soar  away  to  Capri  if  there 
is  any  smoke  or  fuss.  We  have  the  pull  of  all  the 
great  things;  the  aeronauts  are  privileged  and  rich,  the 
closest  trades  union  in  the  world,  and  so  are  the  engin- 
eers of  the  wind  vanes.  We  have  the  air,  and  the  mas- 
tery of  the  air  is  the  mastery  of  the  earth.  No  one  of 
any  ability  is  organising  against  us.  They  have  no 
leaders  —  only  the  sectional  leaders  of  the  secret 
society  we  organised  before  your  very  opportune 
awakening.  Mere  busybodies  and  sentimentalists  they 
are  and  bitterly  jealous  of  each  other.  None  of  them  is 
man  enough  for  a  central  figure.  The  only  touble  will 
be  a  disorganised  upheaval.  To  be  frank  —  that  may 
happen.     But   it   won't   interrupt   your    aeronautics. 

234 


OSTROG'S  POINT  OF  VIEW 

The  days  when  the  People  could  make  revolutions  are 
past." 

"  I  suppose  they  are,"  said  Graham.  "  I  suppose 
they  are."  He  mused.  "  This  world  of  yours  has 
been  full  of  surprises  to  me.  In  the  old  days  we 
dreamt  of  a  wonderful  democratic  life,  of  a  time  when 
all  men  would  be  equal  and  happy." 

Ostrog  looked  at  him  steadfastly.  "  The  day  of 
democracy  is  past,"  he  said.  "  Past  for  ever.  That 
day  began  with  the  bowmen  of  Cre<;y,  it  ended  when 
marching  infantry,  when  common  men  in  masses 
ceased  to  win  the  battles  of  the  world,  when  costly 
cannon,  great  ironclads,  and  strategic  railways  became 
the  means  of  power.  To-day  is  the  day  of  wealth. 
Wealth  now  is  power  as  it  never  was  power  before  — 
it  commands  earth  and  sea  and  sky.  All  power  is  for 
those  who  can  handle  wealth.  .  .  .  You  must 
accept  facts,  and  these  are  facts.  The  world  for  the 
Crowd!  The  Crowd  as  Ruler!  Even  in  your  days 
that  creed  had  been  tried  and  condemned.  To-day  it 
has  only  one  believer  —  a  multiplex,  silly  one  —  the 
man  in  the  Crowd." 

Graham  did  not  answer  immediately.  He  stood  lost 
in  sombre  preoccupations. 

"  No,"  said  Ostrog.  "  The  day  of  the  common  man 
is  past.  On  the  open  countryside  one  man  is  as  good 
as  another,  or  nearly  as  good.  The  earlier  aristocracy 
had  a  precarious  tenure  of  strength  and  audacity. 
They  were  tempered  —  tempered.  There  were  insur- 
rections, duels,  riots.  The  first  real  aristocracy, 
the  first  permanent  aristocracy,  came  in  with  castles 
and  armour,  and  vanished  before  the  musket  and  bow. 

23s 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

But  this  is  the  second  aristocracy.  The  real  one. 
Those  days  of  gunpowder  and  democracy  were  only 
an  eddy  in  the  stream.  The  common  man  now  is  a 
helpless  unit.  In  these  days  we  have  this  great 
machine  of  the  city,  and  an  organisation  complex 
beyond  his  understanding." 

"  Yet,"  said  Graham,  "  there  is  something  resists, 
something  you  are  holding  down  —  something  that 
stirs  and  presses." 

"  You  will  see,"  said  Ostrog,  with  a  forced  smile  that 
would  brush  these  difficult  questions  aside.  "  I  have 
not  roused  the  force  to  destroy  myself  —  trust  me." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Graham. 

Ostrog  stared. 

"Must  the  world  go  this  way?"  said  Graham,  with 
his  emotions  at  the  speaking  point.  "  Must  it  indeed 
go  in  this  way?     Have  all  our  hopes  been  vain?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  said  Ostrog.     "  Hopes?  " 

"  I  came  from  a  democratic  age.  And  I  find  an 
aristocratic  tyranny !  " 

"  Well, —  but  you  are  the  chief  tyrant." 
^    Graham  shook  his  head. 

"  Well,"  said  Ostrog,  "  take  the  general  question. 
It  is  the  way  that  change  has  always  travelled.  Aris- 
tocracy, the  prevalence  of  the  best  —  the  suffering  and 
extinction  of  the  unfit,  and  so  to  better  things." 

"  But  aristocracy!  those  people  I  met — " 

"  Oh!  not  those!  "  said  Ostrog.  "  But  for  the  most 
part  they  go  to  their  death.  Vice  and  pleasure!  They 
have  no  children.  That  sort  of  stuff  will  die  out.  If 
the  world  keeps  to  one  road,  that  is,  if  there  is  no 
turning  back.     An  easy  road  to  excess,  convenient 

236 


OSTROG'S  POINT  OF  VIEW 

Euthanasia  for  the  pleasure  seekers  singed  in  the 
flame,  that  is  the  way  to  improve  the  race!" 

"  Pleasant  extinction,"  said  Graham.  "  Yet  — ." 
He  thought  for  an  instant.  "  There  is  that  other  thing 
—  the  Crowd,  the  great  mass  of  poor  men.  Will  that 
die  out?  That  will  not  die  out.  And  it  suffers,  its 
suffering  is  a  force  that  even  you  — " 

Ostrog  moved  impatiently,  and  when  he  spoke,  he 
spoke  rather  less  evenly  than  before. 

"  Don't  you  trouble  about  these  things,"  he  said. 
"  Everything  will  be  settled  in  a  few  days  now.  The 
Crowd  is  a  huge  foolish  beast.  What  if  it  does  not 
die  out?  Even  if  it  does  not  die,  it  can  still  be  tamed 
and  driven.  I  have  no  sympathy  with  servile  men. 
You  heard  those  people  shouting  and  singing  two 
nights  ago.  They  were  taught  that  song.  If  you 
had  taken  any  man  there  in  cold  blood  and  asked 
why  he  shouted,  he  could  not  have  told  you.  They 
think  they  are  shouting  for  you,  that  they  are  loyal 
and  devoted  to  you.  Just  then  they  were  ready  to 
slaughter  the  Council.  To-day  —  they  are  already 
murmuring"  against  those  who  have  overthrown  the 
Council." 

"No,  no,"  said  Graham.  "  They  shouted  because 
their  lives  were  dreary,  without  joy  or  pride,  and 
because  in  me  —  in  me  —  they  hoped." 

"And  what  was  their  hope?  What  is  their  hope? 
What  right  have  they  to  hope?  They  work  ill  and 
they  want  the  reward  of  those  who  work  well.  The 
hope  of  mankind  —  what  is  it?  That  some  day  the 
Over-man  may  come,  that  some  day  the  inferior,  the 
weak  and  the  bestial  may  be  subdued  or  eliminated. 

237 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Subdued  if  not  eliminated.  The  world  is  no  place  for 
the  bad,  the  stupid,  the  enervated.  Their  duty  —  it's 
a  fine  duty  too!  —  is  to  die.  The  death  of  the  failure! 
That  is  the  path  by  which  the  beast  rose  to  manhood, 
by  which  man  goes  on  to  higher  things." 

Ostrog  took  a  pace,  seemed  to  think,  and  turned  on 
Graham.  "  I  can  imagine  how  this  great  world  state 
of  ours  seems  to  a  Victorian  Englishman.  You  regret 
all  the  old  forms  of  representative  government  —  their 
spectres  still  haunt  the  world,  the  voting  councils  and 
parliaments  and  all  that  eighteenth  century  tomfoolery. 
You  feel  moved  against  our  Pleasure  Cities.  I  might 
have  thought  of  that, —  had  I  not  been  busy.  But  you 
will  learn  better.  The  people  are  mad  with  envy — they 
would  be  in  sympathy  with  you.  Even  in  the  streets 
now,  they  clamour  to  destroy  the  Pleasure  Cities. 
But  the  Pleasure  Cities  are  the  excretory  organs 
of  the  State,  attractive  places  that  year  after  year  draw 
together  all  that  is  weak  and  vicious,  all  that  is  lascivi- 
ous and  lazy,  all  the  easy  roguery  of  the  world,  to  a 
graceful  destruction.  They  go  there,  they  have  their 
time,  they  die  childless,  all  the  pretty  silly  lascivious 
women  die  childless,  and  mankind  is  the  better.  If 
the  people  were  sane  they  would  not  envy  the  rich 
their  way  of  death.  And  you  would  emancipate  the 
silly  brainless  workers  that  we  have  enslaved,  and  try 
to  make  their  lives  easy  and  pleasant  again.  Just 
as  they  have  sunk  to  what  they  are  fit  for."  He 
smiled  a  smile  that  irritated  Graham  oddly.  "  You 
will  learn  better.  I  know  those  ideas ;  in  my  boyhood 
I  read  your  Shelley  and  dreamt  of  Liberty.  There  is 
no  liberty,  save  wisdom  and  self-control.     Liberty  is 

2Z^ 


OSTROG'S  POINT  OF  VIEW 

within  —  not  without.  It  is  each  man's  own  affair. 
Suppose  —  which  is  impossible  —  that  these  swarming 
yelping  fools  in  blue  get  the  upper  hand  of  us,  what 
then?  They  will  only  fall  to  other  masters.  So  long 
as  there  are  sheep  Nature  wiU  insist  on  beasts  of  prey. 
It  would  mean  but  a  few  hundred  years'  delay.  The 
coming  of  the  aristocrat  is  fatal  and  assured.  The  end 
will  be  the  Over-man  —  for  all  the  mad  protests  of 
humanity.  Let  them  revolt,  let  them  win  and  kill  me 
and  my  like.  Others  will  arise  —  other  masters.  The 
end  will  be  the  same." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Graham  doggedly. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  downcast. 

"  But  I  must  see  these  things  for  myself,"  he  said, 
suddenly  assuming  a  tone  of  confident  mastery. 
"  Only  by  seeing  can  I  understand.  I  must  learn. 
That  is  what  I  want  to  tell  you,  Ostrog,  I  do  not 
want  to  be  King  in  a  Pleasure  City;  that  is  not  my 
pleasure.  I  have  spent  enough  time  with  aeronautics 
—  and  those  other  things.  I  must  learn  how  people 
live  now,  how  the  common  life  has  developed.  Then  I 
shall  understand  these  things  better.  I  must  learn 
how  common  people  live  —  the  labour  people  more 
especially  —  how  they  work,  marry,  bear  children, 
die  — " 

"  You  get  that  from  our  realistic  novelists,"  sug- 
gested Ostrog,  suddenly  preoccupied. 

"  I  want  reality,"  said  Graham,  "  not  realism." 

"  There  are  difficulties,"  said  Ostrog,  and  thought. 
"  On  the  whole  perhaps  — 

"  I  did  not  expect  — . 

"  I  had  thought  — .  And  yet,  perhaps  — .  You  say 
239 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

you  want  to  go  through  the  \\'ays  of  the  city  and  see 
the  common  people." 

Suddenly  he  came  to  some  conclusion.  "  You 
would  need  to  go  disguised,"  he  said.  "  The  city  is 
intensely  excited,  and  the  discovery  of  your  presence 
among  them  might  create  a  fearful  tumult.  Still  this 
wish  of  yours  to  go  into  this  city  —  this  idea  of 
yours  — .  Yes,  now  I  think  the  thing  over  it  seems  to 
me  not  altogether — .  It  can  be  contrived.  If  you 
would  really  find  an  interest  in  that!  You  are,  of 
course.  Master.  You  can  go  soon  if  you  like.  A  dis- 
guise for  this  excursion  Asano  will  be  able  to  manage. 
He  would  go  with  you.  After  all  it  is  not  a  bad  idea 
of  yours." 

"You  will  not  want  to  consult  me  in  any  matter?" 
asked  Graham  suddenly,  struck  by  an  odd  suspicion. 

"  Oh,  dear  no!  No!  I  think  you  may  trust  affairs 
to  me  for  a  time,  at  any  rate,"  said  Ostrog,  smihng. 
**  Even  if  we  differ  — " 

Graham  glanced  at  him  sharply. 

"There  is  no  fighting  likely  to  happen  soon?"  he 
asked  abruptly. 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  about  these  negroes.  I  don't 
believe  the  people  intend  any  hoctility  to  me,  and,  after 
all,  I  am  the  Master.  I  do  not  want  any  negroes 
brought  to  London.  It  is  an  archaic  prejudice  per- 
haps, but  I  have  peculiar  feelings  about  Europeans  and 
the  subject  races.     Even  about  Paris — " 

Ostrog  stood  watching  him  from  under  his  droop- 
ing brows.  "  I  am  not  bringing  negroes  to  London," 
he  said  slowly.     "  But  if  — " 

240 


OSTROG'S  POINT  OP  VIEW 

"  You  are  not  to  bring  armed  negroes  to  London, 
whatever  happens,"  said  Graham.  "  In  that  matter  I 
am  quite  decided." 

Ostrog,  after  a  pause,  decided  not  to  speak,  and 
bowed  deferentially. 


241 


CHAPTER  XX 
IN    THE    CITY    WAYS 

And  that  night,  unknown  and  unsuspected,  Graham, 
dressed  in  the  costume  of  an  inferior  wind-vane  offi- 
cial keeping  holiday,  and  accompanied  by  Asano  in 
Labour  Company  canvas,  surveyed  the  city  through 
which  he  had  wandered  when  it  was  veiled  in  darkness. 
But  now  he  saw  it  lit  and  waking,  a  whirlpool  of  life. 
In  spite  of  the  surging  and  swaying  of  the  forces  of 
revolution,  in  spite  of  the  unusual  discontent,  the  mut- 
terings  of  the  greater  struggle  of  which  the  first  revolt 
was  but  the  prelude,  the  myriad  streams  of  commerce 
still  flowed  wide  and  strong.  He  knew  now  some- 
thing of  the  dimensions  and  quality  of  the  new  age,  but 
he  was  not  prepared  for  the  infinite  surprise  of  the 
detailed  view,  for  the  torrent  of  colour  and  vivid 
impressions  that  poured  past  him. 

This  was  his  first  real  contact  with  the  people  of 
these  latter  days.  He  realised  that  all  that  had  gone 
before,  saving  his  glimpses  of  the  public  theatres  and 
markets,  had  had  its  element  of  seclusion,  had  been  a 
movement  within  the  comparatively  narrow  political 
quarter,  that  all  his  previous  experiences  had  revolved 
immediately  about  the  question  of  his  own  position. 
But  here  was  the  city  at  the  busiest  hours  of  night,  the 
people  to  a  large  extent  returned  to  their  own  imme- 

242 


IN  THE  CITY  WAYS 

diate  interests,  the  resumption  of  the  real  informal  life, 
the  common  habits  of  the  new  time. 

They  emerged  at  first  into  a  street  whose  opposite 
ways  were  crowded  with  the  blue  canvas  liveries.  This 
swarm  Graham  saw  was  a  portion  of  a  procession  — 
it  was  odd  to  see  a  procession  parading  the  city  seated. 
They  carried  banners  of  coarse  red  stuff  with  red  let- 
ters. "  No  disarmament,"  said  the  banners,  for  the 
most  part  in  crudely  daubed  letters  and  with  variant 
spclHng,  and  "Why  should  we  disarm?"  "No  dis- 
arming." "  No  disarming,"  Banner  after  banner 
went  by,  a  stream  of  banners  flowing  past,  and  at  last 
at  the  end,  the  song  of  the  revolt  and  a  noisy  band  of 
strange  instruments.  "  They  all  ought  to  be  at  work," 
said  Asano.  "  They  have  had  no  food  these  two  days, 
or  they  have  stolen  it." 

Presently  Asano  made  a  detour  to  avoid  the  con- 
gested crowd  that  gaped  upon  the  occasional  passage 
of  dead  bodies  from  hospital  to  a  mortuary,  the  glean- 
ings after  death's  harvest  of  the  first  revolt. 

That  night  few  people  were  sleeping,  everyone  was 
abroad.  A  vast  excitement,  perpetual  crowds  perpetu- 
ally changing,  surrounded  Graham;  his  mind  was  con- 
fused and  darkened  by  an  incessant  tumult,  by  the 
cries  and  enigmatical  fragments  of  the  social  struggle 
that  was  as  yet  only  beginning.  Everywhere  fes- 
toons and  banners  of  black  and  strange  decora- 
tions, intensified  the  quality  of  his  popularity. 
Everywhere  he  caught  snatches  of  that  crude  thick 
dialect  that  served  the  illiterate  class,  the  class,  that  is, 
beyond  the  reach  of  phonograph  culture,  in  their  com- 
mon-place intercourse.     Everywhere  this  trouble  of 

243 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

disarmament  was  in  the  air,  with  a  quality  of  imme- 
diate stress  of  which  he  had  no  inkHng  during  his 
seclusion  in  the  Wind-Vane  quarter.  He  perceived 
that  as  soon  as  he  returned  he  must  discuss  this  with 
Ostrog,  this  and  the  greater  issues  of  which  it  was  the 
expression,  in  a  far  more  conclusive  way  than  he  had 
so  far  done.  Perpetually  that  night,  even  in  the  earlier 
hours  of  their  wanderings  about  the  city,  the  spirit 
of  unrest  and  revolt  swamped  his  attention,  to  the 
exclusion  of  countless  strange  things  he  might  other- 
wise have  observed. 

This  preoccupation  made  his  impressions  fragment- 
ary. Yet  amidst  so  much  that  was  strange  and  vivid, 
no  subject,  however  personal  and  insistent,  could  exert 
undivided  sway.  There  were  spaces  when  the  revolu- 
tionary movement  passed  clean  out  of  his  mind,  was 
drawn  aside  like  a  curtain  from  before  some  startling 
new  aspect  of  the  time.  Helen  had  swayed  his  mind 
to  this  intense  earnestness  of  enquiry,  but  there  came 
times  when  she,  even,  receded  beyond  his  conscious 
thoughts.  At  one  moment,  for  example,  he  found 
they  were  traversing  the  religious  quarter,  for  the  easy 
transit  about  the  city  afforded  by  the  moving  ways 
rendered  sporadic  churches  and  chapels  no  longer 
necessary  —  and  his  attention  was  vividly  arrested  by 
the  fa(;ade  of  one  of  the  Christian  sects. 

They  were  travelling  seated  on  one  of  the  swift  upper 
ways,  the  place  leapt  upon  them  at  a  bend  and  advanced 
rapidly  towards  them.  It  was  covered  with  inscriptions 
from  top  to  base,  in  vivid  white  and  blue,  save  where  a 
vast  and  glaring  kinematograph  transparency  pre- 
sented a  realistic  New  Testament  scene,  and  where  a 

244 


IN  THE  CITY  WAYS 

vast  festoon  of  black  to  show  that  the  popular  religion 
followed  the  popular  politics,  hung  across  the  lettering. 
Graham  had  already  become  familiar  with  the  phono- 
type  writing  and  these  inscriptions  arrested  him,  being 
to  his  sense  for  the  most  part  almost  incredible  blas- 
phemy. Among  the  less  offensive  were  "  Salvation  on 
the  First  Floor  and  turn  to  the  Right."  "  Put  your 
Money  on  your  Maker."  "  The  Sharpest  Conversion 
in  London,  Expert  Operators!  Look  Slippy!" 
"What  Christ  would  say  to  the  Sleeper;  —  Join  the 
Up-to-date  Saints!  "  "  Be  a  Christian  —  without  hin- 
drance to  your  present  Occupation."  "  All  the  Bright- 
est Bishops  on  the  Bench  to-night  and  Prices  as  Usual." 
"  Brisk  Blessings  for  Busy  Business  Men." 

"But  this  is  appalling!"  said  Graham,  as  that  deaf- 
ening scream  of  mercantile  piety  towered  above  them. 

"  What  is  appalling?  "  asked  his  little  officer,  appar- 
ently seeking  vainly  for  anything  unusual  in  this 
shrieking  enamel. 

"  This!     Surely  the  essence  of  religion  is  reverence." 

"Oh  that!"  Asano  looked  at  Graham.  "  Does  it 
shock  you?  "  he  said  in  the  tone  of  one  who  makes  a 
discovery.  "  I  suppose  it  would,  of  course.  I  had  for- 
gotten. Nowadays  the  competition  for  attention  is  so 
keen,  and  people  simply  haven't  the  leisure  to  attend  to 
their  souls,  you  know,  as  they  used  to  do."  He  smiled. 
"  In  the  old  days  you  had  quiet  Sabbaths  and  the 
countryside.  Though  somewhere  I've  read  of  Sunday 
afternoons  that  — " 

"  But,  that,"  said  Graham,  glancing  back  at  the 
receding  blue  and  white.  "  That  is  surely  not  the 
only  —" 

245 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  There  are  hundreds  of  different  ways.  But,  of 
course,  if  a  sect  doesn't  tell  it  doesn't  pay.  Worship 
has  moved  with  the  times.  There  are  high  class  sects 
with  quieter  ways  —  costly  incense  and  personal  atten- 
tions and  all  that.  These  people  are  extremely  popu- 
lar and  prosperous.  They  pay  several  dozen  lions  for 
those  apartments  to  the  Council  —  to  you,  I  should 
say." 

Graham  still  felt  a  difficulty  with  the  coinage,  and 
this  mention  of  a  dozen  lions  brought  him  abruptly 
to  that  matter.  In  a  moment  the  screaming  temples 
and  their  swarming  touts  were  forgotten  in  this  new 
interest.  A  turn  of  a  phrase  suggested,  and  an  answer 
confirmed  the  idea  that  gold  and  silver  were  both 
demonetised,  that  stamped  gold  which  had  begun  its 
reign  amidst  the  merchants  of  Phoenicia  was  at  last 
dethroned.  The  change  had  been  graduated  but  swift, 
brought  about  by  an  extension  of  the  system  of 
cheques  that  had  even  in  his  previous  life  already  prac- 
tically superseded  gold  in  all  the  larger  business  trans- 
actions. The  common  traffic  of  the  city,  the  common 
currency  indeed  of  all  the  world,  was  conducted  by 
means  of  the  little  brown,  green  and  pink  council 
cheques  for  small  amounts,  printed  with  a  blank  payee. 
Asano  had  several  with  him,  and  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity he  supplied  the  gaps  in  his  set.  They  were 
printed  not  on  tearable  paper,  but  on  a  semi-trans- 
parent fabric  of  silken  flexibility,  interwoven  with  silk. 
Across  them  all  sprawled  a  fac-simile  of  Graham's  sig- 
nature, his  first  encounter  with  the  curves  and  turns  of 
that  familiar  autograph  for  two  hundred  and  three 
years. 

246 


IN  THE  CITY  WAYS 

Some  intermediary  experiences  made  no  impression 
sufficiently  vivid  to  prevent  the  matter  of  the  disarma- 
ment claiming  his  thoughts  again;  a  blurred  picture 
of  a  Theosophist  temple  that  promised  MIRACLES 
in  enormous  letters  of  unsteady  fire  was  least  sub- 
merged perhaps,  but  then  came  the  view  of  the  dining 
hall  in  Northumberland  Avenue.  That  interested  him 
very  greatly. 

By  the  energy  and  thought  of  Asano  he  was  able  to 
view  this  place  from  a  little  screened  gallery  reserved 
for  the  attendants  of  the  tables.  The  building  was 
pervaded  by  a  distant  muffled  hooting,  piping  and 
bawling,  of  which  he  did  not  at  first  understand  the 
import,  but  which  recalled  a  certain  mysterious  leath- 
ery voice  he  had  heard  after  the  resumption  of  the 
lights  on  the  night  of  his  solitary  wandering. 

He  had  grown  accustomed  now  to  vastness  and 
great  numbers  of  people,  nevertheless  this  spectacle 
held  him  for  a  long  time.  It  was  as  he  watched  the 
table  service  more  immediately  beneath,  and  inter- 
spersed with  many  questions  and  answers  concerning 
details,  that  the  realisation  of  the  full  significance  of 
the  feast  of  several  thousand  people  came  to  him. 

It  was  his  constant  surprise  to  find  that  points  that 
one  might  have  expected  to  strike  vividly  at  the  very 
outset  never  occurred  to  him  until  some  trivial  detail 
suddenly  shaped  as  a  riddle  and  pointed  to  the  obvious 
thing  he  had  overlooked.  In  this  matter,  for  instance, 
it  had  not  occurred  to  him  that  this  continuity  of  the 
city,  this  exclusion  of  weather,  these  vast  halls  and 
ways,  involved  the  disappearance  of  the  household; 
that  the  typical  Victorian  "  Home,"  the  little  brick  cell 

247 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

containing  kitchen  and  scullery,  living  rooms  and  bed- 
rooms, had,  save  for  the  ruins  that  diversified  the 
countryside,  vanished  as  surely  as  the  wattle  hut.  But 
now  he  saw  what  had  indeed  been  manifest  from  the 
first,  that  London,  regarded  as  a  living  place,  was  no 
longer  an  aggregation  of  houses  butaprodigioushotel, 
an  hotel  with  a  thousand  classes  of  accommodation, 
thousands  of  dining  halls,  chapels,  theatres,  markets 
and  places  of  assembly,  a  synthesis  of  enterprises,  of 
which  he  chiefly  was  the  owner.  People  had  their 
sleeping  rooms,  with,  it  might  be,  antechambers, 
rooms  that  were  always  sanitary  at  least  whatever  the 
degree  of  comfort  and  privacy,  and  for  the  rest  they 
lived  much  as  many  people  had  lived  in  the  new-made 
giant  hotels  of  the  Victorian  days,  eating,  reading, 
thinking,  playing,  conversing,  all  in  places  of  public 
resort,  going  to  their  work  in  the  industrial  quarters 
of  the  city  or  doing  business  in  their  offices  in  the 
trading  section. 

He  perceived  at  once  how  necessarily  this  state  of 
afifairs  had  developed  from  the  Victorian  city.  The 
fundamental  reason  for  the  modern  city  had  ever  been 
the  economy  of  co-operation.  The  chief  thing  to  pre- 
vent the  merging  of  the  separate  households  in  his 
own  generation  was  simply  the  still  imperfect  civilisa- 
tion of  the  people,  the  strong  barbaric  pride,  passions, 
and  prejudices,  the  jealousies,  rivalries,  and  violence 
of  the  middle  and  lower  classes,  which  had  necessitated 
the  entire  separation  of  contiguous  households.  But 
the  change,  the  taming  of  the  people,  had  been  in 
rapid  progress  even  then.  In  his  brief  thirty  years  of 
previous  life  he  had  seen  an  enormous  extension  of 

248 


IN  THE  CITY  WAYS 

the  habit  of  consuming'  meals  from  home,  the  casually 
patronised  horse-box  cofifee-house  had  given  place  to 
the  open  and  crowded  Aerated  Bread  Shop  for 
instance,  women's  clubs  had  had  their  beginning,  and 
an  immense  development  of  reading  rooms,  lounges 
and  libraries  had  witnessed  to  the  growth  of  social 
confidence.  These  promises  had  by  this  time  attained 
to  their  complete  fulfilment.  The  locked  and  barred 
household  had  passed  away. 

These  people  below  him  belonged,  he  learnt,  to  the 
lower  middle  class,  the  class  just  above  the  blue 
labourers,  a  class  so  accustomed  in  the  Victorian 
period  to  feed  with  every  precaution  of  privacy  that 
its  members,  when  occasion  confronted  them  with  a 
public  meal,  would  usually  hide  their  embarrassment 
under  horseplay  or  a  markedly  militant  demeanour. 
But  these  gaily,  if  lightly  dressed  people  below,  albeit 
vivacious,  hurried  and  uncommunicative,  were  dex- 
terously mannered  and  certainly  quite  at  their  ease 
with  regard  to  one  another. 

He  noted  a  slight  significant  thing;  the  table,  as 
far  as  he  could  see,  was  and  remained  delightfully  neat, 
there  was  nothing  to  parallel  the  confusion,  the  broad- 
cast crumbs,  the  splashes  of  viand  and  condiment,  the 
overturned  drinkand  displaced  ornaments,  which  would 
have  marked  the  stormy  progress  of  the  Victorian  meal. 
The  table  furniture  was  very  different.  There  were 
no  ornaments,  no  flowers,  and  the  table  was  without  a 
cloth,  being  made,  he  learnt,  of  a  solid  substance  hav- 
ing the  texture  and  appearance  of  damask.  He  dis- 
cerned that  this  damask  substance  was  patterned  with 
gracefully  designed  trade  advertisements. 

249 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Irk  a  sort  of  recess  before  each  diner  was  a  complex 
apparatus  of  porcelain  and  metal.  There  was  one 
plate  of  white  porcelain,  and  by  means  of  taps  for  hot 
and  cold  volatile  fluids  the  diner  washed  this  himself 
between  the  courses;  he  also  washed  his  elegant  white 
metal  knife  and  fork  and  spoon  as  occasion  required. 

Soup  and  the  chemical  wine  that  was  the  common 
drink  were  delivered  by  similar  taps,  and  the  remaining 
covers  travelled  automatically  in  tastefully  arranged 
dishes  down  the  table  along  silver  rails.  The  diner 
stopped  these  and  helped  himself  at  his  discretion. 
They  appeared  at  a  little  door  at  one  end  of  the  table, 
and  vanished  at  the  other.  That  turn  of  democratic 
sentiment  in  decay,  that  ugly  pride  of  menial  souls, 
which  renders  equals  loth  to  wait  on  one  another,  was 
very  strong  he  found  among  these  people.  He  was  so 
preoccupied  with  these  details  that  it  was  only  just  as 
he  was  leaving  the  place  that  he  remarked  the  huge 
advertisement  dioramas  that  marched  majestically 
along  the  upper  walls  and  proclaimed  the  most  remark- 
able commodities. 

Beyond  this  place  they  came  into  a  crowded  hall, 
and  he  discovered  the  cause  of  the  noise  that  had  per- 
plexed him.  They  paused  at  a  turnstile  at  which  a 
payment  was  made. 

Graham's  attention  was  immediately  arrested  by  a 
violent,  loud  hoot,  followed  by  a  vast  leathery  voice. 
"  The  Master  is  sleeping  peacefully,"  it  vociferated. 
"  He  is  in  excellent  health.  He  is  going  to  devote  the 
rest  of  his  life  to  aeronautics.  He  says  women  are 
more  beautiful  than  ever.  Galloop!  Wow!  Our 
wonderful  civilisation  astonishes  him  beyond  measure. 

250 


IN  THE  CITY  WAYS 

Beyond  all  measure.  Galloop.  He  puts  great  trust 
in  Boss  Ostrog,  absolute  confidence  in  Boss  Ostrog. 
Ostrog  is  to  be  his  chief  minister;  is  authorised  to 
remove  or  reinstate  pubHc  officers  —  all  patronage  will 
be  in  his  hands.  All  patronage  in  the  hands  of  Boss 
Ostrog!  The  Councillors  have  been  sent  back  to  their 
own  prison  above  the  Council  House." 

Graham  stopped  at  the  first  sentence,  and,  looking 
up,  beheld  a  foolish  trumpet  face  from  which  this  was 
brayed.  This  was  the  General  Intelligence  Machine. 
For  a  space  it  seemed  to  be  gathering  breath,  and  a 
regular  throbbing  from  its  cylindrical  body  was  audi- 
ble. Then  it  trumpeted  "  Galloop,  Galloop,"  and 
broke  out  again. 

"  Paris  is  now  pacified.  All  resistance  is  over. 
Galloop!  The  black  police  hold  every  position  of 
importance  in  the  city.  They  fought  with  great  brav- 
ery, singing  songs  written  in  praise  of  their  ancestors 
by  the  poet  Kipling.  Once  or  twice  they  got  out  of 
hand,  and  tortured  and  mutilated  wounded  and  cap- 
tured insurgents,  men  and  women.  Moral  —  don't  go 
rebelling.  Haha!  Galloop,  Galloop!  They  are 
lively  fellows.  Lively  brave  fellows.  Let  this  be  a  lesson 
to  the  disorderly  banderlog  of  this  city.  Yah!  Ban- 
derlog!     Filth  of  the  earth!     Galloop,  Galloop!" 

The  voice  ceased.  There  was  a  confused  murmur 
of  disapproval  among  the  crowd.  "  Damned  nig- 
gers." A  man  began  to  harangue  near  them.  "  Is 
this  the  Master's  doing,  brothers?  Is  this  the 
Master's  doing?  " 

"Black  police!"  said  Graham.  "What  is  that? 
You  don't  mean  — " 

251 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Asano  touched  his  arm  and  gave  him  a  warning 
look,  and  forthwith  another  of  these  mechanisms 
screamed  deafeningly  and  gave  tongue  in  a  shrill  voice. 
"  Yahaha,  Yahah,  Yap!  Hear  a  live  paper  yelp! 
Live  paper.  Yaha!  Shocking  outrage  in  Paris. 
Yahahah!  The  Parisians  exasperated  by  the  black 
police  to  the  pitch  of  assassination.  Dreadful  repri- 
sals. Savage  times  come  again.  Blood!  Blood! 
Yaha!"  The  nearer  Babble  Machine  hooted  stupen- 
dously, "  Galloop,  Galloop,"  drowned  the  end  of  the 
sentence,  and  proceeded  in  a  rather  flatter  note  than 
before  with  novel  comments  on  the  horrors  of  disorder. 
"  Law  and  order  must  be  maintained,"  said  the  nearer 
Babble  Machine. 

"  But,"  began  Graham. 

"  Don't  ask  questions  here,"  said  Asano,  "  or  you 
will  be  involved  in  an  argument." 

"  Then  let  us  go  on,"  said  Graham,  "  for  I  want  to 
know  more  of  this." 

As  he  and  his  companion  pushed  their  way  through 
the  excited  crowd  that  swarmed  beneath  these  voices, 
towards  the  exit,  Graham  conceived  more  clearly  the 
proportion  and  features  of  this  room.  Altogether, 
great  and  small,  there  must  have  been  nearly  a  thou- 
sand of  these  erections,  piping,  hooting,  bawling  and 
gabbling  in  that  great  space,  each  with  its  crowd  of 
excited  listeners,  the  majority  of  them  men  dressed 
in  blue  canvas.  There  were  all  sizes  of  machines, 
from  the  little  gossipping  mechanisms  that  chuckled 
out  mechanical  sarcasm  in  odd  corners,  through  a 
number  of  grades  to  such  fifty-foot  giants  as  that  which 
had  first  hooted  over  Graham. 

252 


IN  THE  CITY  WAYS 

This  place  was  unusually  crowded,  because  of  the 
intense  public  interest  in  the  course  of  affairs  in  Paris. 
Evidently  the  struggle  had  been  much  more  savage 
than  Ostrog  had  represented  it.  All  the  mechanisms 
were  discoursing  upon  that  topic,  and  the  repetition 
of  the  people  made  the  huge  hive  buzz  with  such 
phrases  as  "  Lynched  policemen,"  "  Women  burnt 
alive,"  "  Fuzzy  Wuzzy,"  "  But  does  the  Master  allow 
such  things?"  asked  a  man  near  him.  "Is  tJiis  the 
beginning  of  the  Master's  rule?  " 

Is  this  the  beginning  of  the  Master's  rule?  For  a 
long  time  after  he  had  left  the  place,  the  hooting, 
whistling  and  braying  of  the  machines  pursued  him; 
"  Galloop,  Galloop,"  "  Yahahah,  Yaha,  Yap!  Yaha!  " 
Is  this  the  beginning  of  the  Master's  rule? 

Directly  they  were  out  upon  the  ways  he  began  to 
question  Asano  closely  on  the  nature  of  the  Parisian 
struggle.  "This  disarmament!  What  was  their 
trouble?  What  does  it  all  mean?"  Asano  seemed 
chiefly  anxious  to  reassure  him  that  it  was  "  all  right." 
"  But  these  outrages!  "  "  You  cannot  have  an  ome- 
lette," said  Asano,  "  without  breaking  eggs.  It  is  only 
the  rough  people.  Only  in  one  part  of  the  city.  All 
the  rest  is  all  right.  The  Parisian  labourers  are  the 
wildest  in  the  world,  except  ours." 

"What!  the  Londoners?" 

"  No,  the  Japanese.    They  have  to  be  kept  in  order." 

"  But  burning  women  alive!  " 

"A  Commune!"  said  Asano.  "They  would  rob 
you  of  your  property.  They  would  do  away  with 
property  and  give  the  world  over  to  mob  rule.  You 
are  Master,  the  world  is  yours.     But  there  will  be  no 

253 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Commune  here.  There  is  no  need  for  black  poUce 
here. 

"  And  every  consideration  has  been  shown.  It  is 
their  own  negroes  —  French  speaking  negroes.  Sene- 
gal regiments,  and  Niger  and  Timbuctoo." 

"Regiments?"  said  Graham,  "I  thought  there  was 
only  one  — ." 

"  No,"  said  Asano,  and  glanced  at  him.  "  There  is 
more  than  one." 

Graham  felt  unpleasantly  helpless. 

"  I  did  not  think,"  he  began  and  stopped  abruptly. 
He  went  off  at  a  tangent  to  ask  for  informa- 
tion about  these  Babble  Machines.  For  the  most 
part,  the  crowd  present  had  been  shabbily  or  even 
raggedly  dressed,  and  Graham  learnt  that  so  far  as 
the  more  prosperous  classes  were  concerned,  in  all 
the  more  comfortable  private  apartments  of  the  city 
were  fixed  Babble  Machines  that  would  speak  directly 
a  lever  was  pulled.  The  tenant  of  the  apartment 
could  connect  this  with  the  cables  of  any  of  the  great 
News  Syndicates  that  he  preferred.  When  he  learnt 
this  presently,  he  demanded  the  reason  of  their 
absence  from  his  own  suite  of  apartments.  Asano 
stared.  "  I  never  thought,"  he  said.  "  Ostrog  must 
have  had  them  removed." 

Graham  stared.  "How  was  I  to  know?"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Perhaps  he  thought  they  would  annoy  you,"  said 
Asano. 

"They  must  be  replaced  directly  I  return,"  said 
Graham  after  an  interval. 

He  found  a  difficulty  in  understanding  that  this 
254 


IN  THE  CITY  WAYS 

news  room  and  the  dining  hall  were  not  great  central 
places,  that  such  establishments  were  repeated  almost 
beyond  counting  all  over  the  city.  But  ever  and 
again  during  the  night's  expedition  his  ears,  in  some 
new  quarter  would  pick  out  from  the  tumult  of  the 
ways  the  peculiar  hooting  of  the  organ  of  Boss 
Ostrog,  "  Galloop,  Galloop!"  or  the  shrill  "  Yahaha, 
Yaha,  Yap!  —  Hear  a  live  paper  yelp!"  of  its  chief 
rival. 

Repeated,  too,  everywhere,  were  such  creches  as  the 
one  he  now  entered.  It  was  reached  by  a  lift,  and 
by  a  glass  bridge  that  flung  across  the  dining  hall 
and  traversed  the  ways  at  a  slight  upward  angle.  To 
enter  the  first  section  of  the  place  necessitated  the 
use  of  his  solvent  signature  under  Asano's  direction. 
They  were  immediately  attended  to  by  a  man  in  a 
violet  robe  and  gold  clasp,  the  insignia  of  practising 
medical  men.  He  perceived  from  this  man's  manner 
that  his  identity  was  known,  and  proceeded  to  ask 
questions  on  the  strange  arrangements  of  the  place 
without  reserve. 

On  either  side  of  the  passage,  which  was  silent 
and  padded,  as  if  to  deaden  the  footfall,  were  narrow 
little  doors,  their  size  and  arrangement  suggestive  of 
the  cells  of  a  A^ictorian  prison.  But  the  upper  por- 
tion of  each  door  was  of  the  same  greenish  trans- 
parent stuff  that  had  enclosed  him  at  his  awakening, 
and  within,  dimly  seen,  lay,  in  every  case,  a  very 
young  baby  in  a  little  nest  of  wadding.  Elaborate 
apparatus  watched  the  atmosphere  and  rang  a  bell  far 
away  in  the  central  office  at  the  slightest  departure 
from  the  optimum  of  temperature  and  moisture.     A 

255 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

system  of  such  creches  had  almost  entirely  replaced 
the  hazardous  adventures  of  the  old-world  nursing. 
The  attendant  presently  called  Graham's  attention  to 
the  wet  nurses,  a  vista  of  mechanical  figures,  with 
arms,  shoulders  and  breasts  of  astonishingly  reahstic 
modelling,  articulation,  and  texture,  but  mere  brass 
tripods  below,  and  having  in  the  place  of  features  a 
flat  disc  bearing  advertisements  likely  to  be  of  interest 
to  mothers. 

Of  all  the  strange  things  that  Graham  came  upon 
that  night,  none  jarred  more  upon  his  habits  of 
thought  than  this  place.  The  spectacle  of  the  little 
pink  creatures,  their  feeble  limbs  swaying  uncertainly 
in  vague  first  movements,  left  alone,  without  embrace 
or  endearment,  was  wholly  repugnant  to  him.  The 
attendant  doctor  was  of  a  different  opinion.  His  sta- 
tistical evidence  showed  beyond  dispute  that  in  the 
Victorian  times  the  most  dangerous  passage  of  life 
was  the  arms  of  the  mother,  that  there  human  mor- 
tality had  ever  been  most  terrible.  On  the  other 
hand  this  creche  company,  the  International  Creche 
Syndicate,  lost  not  one-half  per  cent  of  the  million 
babies  or  so  that  formed  its  peculiar  care.  But  Gra- 
ham's prejudice  was  too  strong  even  for  those  figures. 

Along  one  of  the  many  passages  of  the  place  they 
presently  came  upon  a  young  couple  in  the  usual  blue 
canvas  peering  through  the  transparency  and  laugh- 
ing hysterically  at  the  bald  head  of  their  first-born. 
Graham's  face  must  have  showed  his  estimate  of  them, 
for  their  merriment  ceased  and  they  looked  abashed. 
But  this  little  incident  accentuated  his  sudden  realisa- 
tion of  the  gulf  between  his  habits  of  thought  and  the 

256 


IN  THE  CITY  WAYS   . 

r 

ways  of  the  new  age.  He  passed  on  to  the  crawling 
rooms  and  the  Kindergarten,  perplexed  and  dis- 
tressed. He  found  the  endless  long  playrooms  were 
empty!  the  latter-day  children  at  least  still  spent  their 
nights  in  sleep.  As  they  went  through  these,  the  little 
officer  pointed  out  the  nature  of  the  toys,  develop- 
ments of  those  devised  by  that  inspired  sentimental- 
ist Froebel.  There  were  nurses  here,  but  much  was 
done  by  machines  that  sang  and  danced  and  dandled. 

Graham  was  still  not  clear  upon  many  points. 
"  But  so  many  orphans,"  he  said  perplexed,  reverting 
to  a  first  misconception,  and  learnt  again  that  they 
were  not  orphans. 

So  soon  as  they  had  left  the  creche  he  began  to 
speak  of  the  horror  the  babies  in  their  incubating 
cases  had  caused  him.  "  Is  motherhood  gone?  "  he 
said.  "Was  it  a  cant?  Surely  it  was  an  instinct. 
This  seems  so  unnatural  —  abominable  almost." 

"  Along  here  we  shall  come  to  the  dancing  place," 
said  Asano  by  way  of  reply.  "  It  is  sure  to  be 
crowded.  In  spite  of  all  the  political  unrest  it  will  be 
crowded.  The  women  take  no  great  interest  in  poli- 
tics —  except  a  few  here  and  there.  You  will  see  the 
mothers  —  most  young  women  in  London  are  moth- 
ers. In  that  class  it  is  considered  a  creditable  thing 
to  have  one  child  —  a  proof  of  animation.  Few 
middle  class  people  have  more  than  one.  With  the 
Labour  Company  it  is  different.  As  for  motherhood! 
They  still  take  an  immense  pride  in  the  children. 
They  come  here  to  look  at  them  quite  often." 

"  Then  do  you  mean  that  the  population  of  the 
world  — ?" 

257  R 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  Is  falling?  Yes.  Except  among  the  people  under 
the  Labour  Company.     Tliey  are  reckless — ." 

The  air  was  suddenly  dancing  with  music,  and  down 
a  way  they  approached  obliquely,  set  with  gorgeous 
pillars  as  it  seemed  of  clear  amethyst,  flowed  a  con- 
course of  gay  people  and  a  tumult  of  merry  cries  and 
laughter.  He  saw  curled  heads,  wreathed  brows,  and 
a  happy  intricate  flutter  of  gamboge  pass  triumphant 
across  the  picture. 

"  You  will  see,"  said  Asano  with  a  faint  smile. 
"  The  world  has  changed.  In  a  moment  you  will  see 
the  mothers  of  the  new  age.  Come  this  way.  We 
shall  see  those  yonder  again  very  soon." 

They  ascended  a  certain  height  in  a  swift  lift,  and 
changed  to  a  slower  one.  As  they  went  on  the  music 
grew  upon  them,  until  it  was  near  and  full  and  splen- 
did, and,  moving  with  its  glorious  intricacies  they 
could  distinguish  the  beat  of  innumerable  dancing 
feet.  They  made  a  payment  at  a  turnstile,  and 
emerged  upon  the  wide  gallery  that  overlooked  the 
dancing  place,  and  upon  the  full  enchantment  of 
sound  and  sight. 

"  Here,"  said  Asano,  "  are  the  fathers  and  mothers 
of  the  little  ones  you  saw." 

The  hall  was  not  so  richly  decorated  as  that  of  the 
Atlas,  but  saving  that,  it  was,  for  its  size,  the  most 
splendid  Graham  had  seen.  The  beautiful  white- 
limbed  figures  that  supported  the  galleries  reminded 
him  once  more  of  the  restored  magnificence  of  sculp- 
ture; they  seemed  to  writhe  in  engaging  attitudes, 
their  faces  laughed.  The  source  of  the  music  that 
filled  the  place  was  hidden,  and  the  whole  vast  shin- 

258 


IN  THE  CITY  WAYS 

ing-  floor  was  thick  with  dancing  couples.  "  Look  at 
them,"  said  the  Httle  officer,  "  see  how  much  they 
show  of  motherhood." 

The  gahery  they  stood  upon  ran  along  the  upper 
edge  of  a  huge  screen  that  cut  the  dancing  hall  on  one 
side  from  a  sort  of  outer  hall  that  showed  through 
broad  arches  the  incessant  onward  rush  of  the  city 
ways.     In  this  outer  hall  was  a  g-reat  crowd  of  less 
brilliantly    dressed    people,    as    numerous    almost   as 
those  who  danced  within,  the  great  majority  wearing 
the  blue  uniform  of  the  Labour  Company  that  was 
nov/  so  familiar  to  Graham.     Too  poor  to  pass  the 
turnstiles  to  the  festival,  they  were  yet  unable  to  keep 
away  from  the  sound  of  its  seductions.     Some  of  them 
even  had  cleared  spaces,  and  were  dancing  also,  flut- 
tering their  rags  in  the  air.     Some  shouted  as  they 
danced,  jests  and  odd  allusions  Graham  did  not  under- 
stand.    Once  someone  began  whistling  the  refrain  of 
the  revolutionary  song,  but  it  seemed  as  though  that 
beginning  was  promptly  suppressed.     The  corner  was 
dark  and  Graham  could  not  see.     He  turned  to  the 
hall  again.     Above  the  caryatids  were  marble  busts 
of  men  whom  that  age  esteemed  great  moral  emanci- 
pators and  pioneers;  for  the  most  part  their  names 
were  strange  to  Graham,  though  he  recognised  Grant 
Allen,  Le  Gallienne,  Nietzsche,  Shelley  and  Goodwin. 
Great  black  festoons  and  eloquent  sentiments   rein- 
forced the  huge  inscription  that  partially  defaced  the 
upper  end  of  the  dancing  place,  and  asserted  that  "  The 
Festival  of  the  Awakening  "  was  in  progress. 

"  Myriads  are  taking  holiday  or  staying  from  work 
because  of  that,  quite  apart  from  the  labourers  who 

259 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

refuse  to  go  back,"  said  Asano.     "  These  people  are 
always  ready  for  holidays."' 

Graham  walked  to  the  parapet  and  stood  leaning 
over,  looking  down  at  the  dancers.  Save  for  two  or 
three  remote  whispering  couples,  who  had  stolen 
apart,  he  and  his  guide  had  the  gallery  to  themselves. 
A  warm  breath  of  scent  and  vitality  came  up  to  him. 
Both  men  and  women  below  were  lightly  clad,  bare- 
armed,  open-necked,  as  the  universal  warmth  of  the 
city  permitted.  The  hair  of  the  men  was  often  a  mass 
of  effeminate  curls,  their  chins  were  always  shaven, 
and  many  of  them  had  flushed  or  coloured  cheeks. 
Many  of  the  women  were  very  pretty,  and  all  were 
dressed  with  elaborate  coquetry.  As  they  swept  by 
beneath,  he  saw  ecstatic  faces  with  eyes  half  closed  in 
pleasure. 

"What  sort  of  people  are  these?"  he  asked 
abruptly. 

"  Workers  —  prosperous  workers.  What  you 
would  have  called  the  middle  class.  Independent 
tradesmen  with  little  separate  businesses  have  van- 
ished long  ago,  but  there  are  store  servers,  manag- 
ers, engineers  of  a  hundred  sorts.  Tonight  is  a  holi- 
day of  course,  and  every  dancing  place  in  the  city 
will  be  crowded,  and  every  place  of  worship." 

"  But  — the  women?" 

"  The  same.  There's  a  thousand  forms  of  work  for 
women  now.  But  you  had  the  beginning  of  the  inde- 
pendent working-woman  in  your  days.  Most  women 
are  independent  now.  Most  of  these  are  married- 
more  or  less  —  there  are  a  number  of  methods  of  con- 

260 


i 


IN  THE  CITY  WAYS 

tract  —  and  that  gives  them  more  money,  and  enables 
them  to  enjoy  themselves." 

"  I  see,"  said  Graham  looking  at  the  flushed  faces, 
the  flash  and  swirl  of  movement,  and  still  thinking  of 
that  nightmare  of  pink  helpless  limbs.  "  And  these 
are  —  mothers." 

"  Most  of  them." 

"  The  more  I  see  of  these  things  the  more  complex 
I  find  your  problems.  This,  for  instance,  is  a  surprise. 
That  news  from  Paris  was  a  surprise." 

In  a  little  while  he  spoke  again: 

"These  are  mothers.  Presently,  I  suppose,  I  shall 
get  into  the  modern  way  of  seeing  things.  I  have  old 
habits  of  mind  clinging  about  me  —  habits  based,  I 
suppose,  on  needs  that  are  over  and  done  with.  Of 
course,  in  our  time,  a  woman  was  supposed  not  only 
to  bear  children,  but  to  cherish  them,  to  devote  herself 
to  them,  to  educate  them  —  all  the  essentials  of  moral 
and  mental  education  a  child  owed  its  mother. 
Or  went  without.  Quite  a  number,  I  admit,  went 
without.  Nowadays,  clearly,  there  is  no  more  need 
for  such  care  than  if  they  were  butterflies.  I  see  that! 
Only  there  was  an  ideal  —  that  figure  of  a  grave, 
patient  woman,  silently  and  serenely  mistress  of  a 
home,  mother  and  maker  of  men  — to  love  her  was  a 
sort  of  worship  —  " 

He  stopped  and  repeated,  "  A  sort  of  worship." 

"  Ideals  change,"  said  the  little  man,  "  as  needs 
change." 

Graham  awoke  from  an  instant  reverie  and  Asano 
repeated  his  words.  Graham's  mind  returned  to  the 
thing  at  hand. 

261 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  Of  course  I  see  the  perfect  reasonableness  of  this. 
Restraint,  soberness,  the  matured  thought,  the  unsel- 
fish act,  they  are  necessities  of  the  barbarous  state,  the 
life  of  dangers.  Dourness  is  man's  tribute  to  uncon- 
quered  nature.  But  man  has  conquered  nature  now 
for  all  practical  purposes  —  his  political  affairs  are 
managed  by  Bosses  with  a  black  police  —  and  life  is 
joyous." 

He  looked  at  the  dancers  again.  "Joyous,"  he 
said. 

"There  are  weary  moments,"  said  the  little  officer, 
reflectively. 

"They  all  look  young.  Down  there  I  should  be 
visibly  the  oldest  man.  And  in  my  own  time  I  sliould 
have  passed  as  middle-aged." 

"  They  are  young.  There  are  few  old  people  in  this 
class  in  the  work  cities." 

"How  is  that?" 

"  Old  people's  lives  are  not  so  pleasant  as  they  used 
to  be,  unless  they  are  rich  to  hire  lovers  and  helpers. 
And  we  have  an  institution  called  Euthanasy." 

"Ah!  that  Euthanasy!"  said  Graham.  "The  easy 
death?" 

"The  easy  death.  It  is  the  last  pleasure.  The 
Euthanasy  Company  does  it  well.  People  will  pay  the 
sum  —  it  is  a  costly  thing  —  long  beforehand,  go  ofif  to 
some  pleasure  city  and  return  impoverished  and 
weary,  very  weary." 

"There  is  a  lot  left  for  me  to  understand,"  said 
Graham  after  a  pause.  "  Yet  I  see  the  logic  of  it  all. 
Our  array  of  angry  virtues  and  sour  restraints  was  the 
consequence  of  danger  and  insecurity.     The  Stoic,  the 

262 


IN  THE  CITY  WAYS 

Puritan,  even  in  my  time,  were  vanishing  types.  In 
the  old  days  man  was  armed  against  Pain,  now  he  is 
eager  for  Pleasure.  There  lies  the  difference.  Civili- 
sation has  driven  pain  and  danger  so  far  off  —  for 
well-to-do  people.  And  only  well-to-do  people  matter 
now.    I  have  been  asleep  two  hundred  years." 

For  a  minute  they  leant  on  the  balustrading,  follow- 
ing the  intricate  evolution  of  the  dance.  Indeed  the 
scene  was  very  beautiful. 

"  Before  God,"  said  Graham,  suddenly,  "  I  would 
rather  be  a  wounded  sentinel  freezing  in  the  snow  than 
one  of  these  painted  fools!  " 

"In  the  snow,"  said  Asano,  "one  might  think 
differently." 

"  I  am  uncivilised,"  said  Graham,  not  heeding  him. 
"That  is  the  trouble.  I  am  primitive  —  Palaeolithic. 
Their  fountain  of  rage  and  fear  and  anger  is  sealed 
and  closed,  the  habits  of  a  lifetime  make  them  cheerful 
and  easy  and  delightful.  You  must  bear  with  my 
nineteenth  century  shocks  and  disgusts.  These 
people,  you  say,  are  skilled  workers  and  so  forth.  And 
while  these  dance,  men  are  fighting  —  men  are  dying 
in  Paris  to  keep  the  world  —  that  they  may  dance." 

Asano  smiled  faintly.  "  For  that  matter,  men  are 
.dying  in  London,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence. 

"Where  do  these  sleep?"  asked  Graham. 

"Above  and  below  —  an  intricate  warren." 

"  And  where  do  they  work?  This  is  —  the  domestic 
life." 

"  You  will  see  little  work  to-night.  Half  the  workers 
are  out  or  under  arms.     Half  these  people  are  keeping 

263 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

holiday.     But  we  will  go  to  the  work  places  if  you 
wish  it'' 

For  a  time  Graham  watched  the  dancers,  then 
suddenly  turned  away.  "  I  want  to  see  the  workers. 
I  have  seen  enough  of  these,"  he  said. 

Asano  led  the  way  along  the  gallery  across  the 
dancing  hall.  Presently  they  came  to  a  transverse 
passage  that  brought  a  breath  of  fresher,  colder  air. 

Asano  glanced  at  this  passage  as  they  went  past, 
stopped,  went  back  to  it,  and  turned  to  Graham  with 
a  smile.  "  Here,  Sire,"  he  said,  "  is  something  —  will 
be  familiar  to  you  at  least  —  and  yet  — .  But  I  will 
not  tell  you.     Come !  " 

He  led  the  way  along  a  closed  passage  that  pres- 
ently became  cold.  The  reverberation  of  their  feet  told 
that  this  passage  was  a  bridge.  They  came  into  a 
circular  gallery  that  was  glazed  in  from  the  outer 
weather,  and  so  reached  a  circular  chamber  which 
seemed  familiar,  though  Graham  could  not  recall  dis- 
tinctly when  he  had  entered  it  before.  In  this  was  a 
ladder  —  the  first  ladder  he  had  seen  since  his 
awakening  —  up  which  they  went,  and  came  into  a 
high,  dark,  cold  place  in  which  was  another  almost 
vertical  ladder.  This  they  ascended,  Graham  still 
perplexed. 

But  at  the  top  he  understood,  and  recognized  the 
metallic  bars  to  which  he  clung.  He  was  in  the  cage 
under  the  ball  of  St.  Paul's.  The  dome  rose  but  a 
little  way  above  the  general  contour  of  the  city, 
into  the  still  twilight,  and  sloped  away,  shining 
greasily  under  a  few  distant  lights,  into  a  circumam- 
bient ditch  of  darkness. 

264 


IN  THE  CITY  WAYS 

Out  between  the  bars  he  looked  upon  the  wind- 
clear  northern  sky  and  saw  the  starry  constellations 
all  unchanged.  Capella  hung  in  the  west,  Vega  was 
rising,  and  the  seven  glittering  points  of  the  Great 
Bear  swept  overhead  in  their  stately  circle  about  the 
Pole. 

He  saw  these  stars  in  a  clear  gap  of  sky.  To  the 
east  and  south  the  great  circular  shapes  of  complain- 
ing wind-wheels  blotted  out  the  heavens,  so  that  the 
glare  about  the  Council  House  was  hidden.  To  the 
south-west  hung  Orion,  showing  like  a  pallid  ghost 
through  a  tracery  of  iron-work  and  interlacing  shapes 
above  a  dazzling  coruscation  of  lights.  A  bellow- 
ing and  siren  screaming  that  came  from  the  flying 
stages  warned  the  world  that  one  of  the  aeroplanes 
was  ready  to  start.  He  remained  for  a  space  gazing 
towards  the  glaring  stage.  Then  his  eyes  went  back 
to  the  northward  constellations. 

For  a  long  time  he  was  silent.  "This,"  he  said  at 
last,  smiling  in  the  shadow,  "  seems  the  strangest  thing 
of  all.  To  stand  in  the  dome  of  Saint  Paul's  and  look 
once  more  upon  these  familiar,  silent  stars!" 

Thence  Graham  was  taken  by  Asano  along  devious 
ways  to  the  great  gambling  and  business  quarters 
where  the  bulk  of  the  fortunes  in  the  city  were  lost 
and  made.  It  impressed  him  as  a  well-nigh  intermin- 
able series  of  very  high  halls,  surrounded  by  tiers  upon 
tiers  of  galleries  into  which  opened  thousands  of 
offices,  and  traversed  by  a  complicated  multitude  of 
bridges,  footways,  aerial  motor  rails,  and  trapeze  and 
cable  leaps.  And  here  more  than  anywhere  the  note 
of  vehement  vitality,  of  uncontrollable,  hasty  activity, 

265 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

rose  high.  Everywhere  was  violent  advertisement, 
until  his  brain  swam  at  the  tumult  of  light  and  colour. 
And  Babble  Machines  of  a  peculiarly  rancid  tone  were 
abundant  and  filled  the  air  with  strenuous  squealing 
and  an  idiotic  slang.  "  Skin  your  eyes  and  slide," 
"  Gewhoop,  Bonanza,"  "  Gollipers  come  and  hark ! " 

The  place  seemed  to  him  to  be  dense  with  people 
either  profoundly  agitated  or  swelling  with  obscure 
cunning,  yet  he  learnt  that  the  place  was  compara- 
tively empty,  that  the  great  political  convulsion  of  the 
last  few  days  had  reduced  transactions  to  an  un- 
precedented minimum.  In  one  huge  place  were  long 
avenues  of  roulette  tables,  each  with  an  ex- 
cited, undignified  crowd  about  it;  in  another  a 
yelping  Babel  of  white-faced  women  and  red- 
necked leathery-lunged  men  bought  and  sold  the 
shares  of  an  absolutely  fictitious  business  under- 
taking which,  every  five  minutes,  paid  a  dividend  of 
ten  per  cent  and  cancelled  a  certain  proportion  of  its 
shares  by  means  of  a  lottery  wheel. 

These  business  activities  were  prosecuted  with  an 
energy  that  readily  passed  into  violence,  and  Graham 
approaching  a  dense  crowd  found  at  its  centre  a  couple 
of  prominent  merchants  in  violent  controversy  with 
teeth  and  nails  on  some  delicate  point  of  business 
etiquette.  Something  still  remained  in  life  to  be  fough't 
for.  Further  he  had  a  shock  at  a  vehement  announce- 
ment in  phonetic  letters  of  scarlet  fllame,  each  twice 
the  height  of  a  man,  that  "WE  ASSURE  THE 
PROPRAIET'R.  WE  ASSURE  THE  PRO- 
PRAIET'R." 

"Who's  the  proprietor?"  he  asked. 
266 


IN  THE  CITY  WAYS 

"You." 

"  But  what  do  they  assure  me?"  he  asked.  "  What 
do  they  assure  me?" 

"Didn't  you  have  assurance?" 

Graham  thought.     "Insurance?" 

"  Yes  —  Insurance.  I  remember  that  was  the  older 
word.  They  are  insuring  your  Hfe.  Dozands  of 
people  are  taking  out  policies,  myriads  of  lions  are 
being  put  on  you.  And  further  on  other  people  are 
buying  annuities.  They  do  that  on  everybody  who  is 
at  all  prominent.     Look  there!  " 

A  crowd  of  people  surged  and  roared,  and  Graham 
saw  a  vast  black  screen  suddenly  illuminated  in  stilll 
larger  letters  of  burning  purple.  "  Anuetes  on  the 
Propraiet'r  —  x  5  pr.  G."  The  people  began  to  boo 
and  shout  at  this,  a  number  of  hard  breathing,  wild- 
eyed  men  came  running  past,  clawing  with  hooked 
fingers  at  the  air.  There  was  a  furious  crush  about  a 
little  doorway. 

Asano  did  a  brief  calculation.  "  Seventeen  per  cent 
per  annum  is  their  annuity  on  you.  They  would  not 
pay  so  much  per  cent  if  they  could  see  you  now.  Sire. 
But  they  do  not  know.  Your  own  annuities  used  to 
be  a  very  safe  investment,  but  now  you  are  sheer 
gambling,  of  course.  This  is  probably  a  desperate 
bid.     I  doubt  if  people  will  get  their  money." 

The  crowd  of  would-be  annuitants  grew  so  thick 
about  them  that  for  some  time  they  could  move  neither 
forward  no  backward.  Graham  noticed  what  appeared 
to  him  to  be  a  high  proportion  of  women  among  the 
speculators,  and  was  reminded  again  of  the  economical 
independence  of  their  sex.     They  seemed  remarkably 

267 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

well  able  to  take  care  of  themselves  in  the  crowd, 
using  their  elbows  with  particular  skill,  as  he  learnt  to 
his  cost.  One  curly-headed  person  caught  in  the 
pressure  for  a  space,  looked  steadfastly  at  him  several 
times,  almost  as  if  she  recognized  him,  and  then, 
edging  deliberately  towards  him,  touched  his  hand 
with  her  arm  in  a  scarcely  accidental  manner,  and 
made  it  plain  by  a  look  as  ancient  as  Chaldea  that  he 
had  found  favour  in  her  eyes.  And  then  a  lank,  grey- 
bearded  man,  perspiring  copiously  in  a  noble  passion 
of  self-help,  blind  to  all  earthly  things  save  that  glaring 
bait,  thrust  between  them  in  a  cataclysmal  rush  towards 
that  alluring  "  x  5  pr.  G." 

"  I  want  to  get  out  of  this,"  said  Graham  to  Asano. 
"  This  is  not  what  I  came  to  see.  Show  me  the 
workers.  I  want  to  see  the  people  in  blue.  Tliese 
parasitic  lunatics  —  " 

He  found  himself  wedged  in  a  struggling  mass  of 
,  people,  and  this  hopeful  sentence  went  unfinished. 


268 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THE   UNDER    SIDE 

From  the  Business  Quarter  they  presently  passed 
by  the  running  ways  into  a  remote  quarter  of  the  city, 
where  the  bulk  of  the  manufactures  was  done.  On 
their  way  the  platforms  crossed  the  Thames  twice,  and 
passed  in  a  broad  viaduct  across  one  of  the  great  roads 
that  entered  the  city  from  the  North.  In  both  cases 
his  impression  was  swift  and  in  both  very  vivid.  The 
river  was  a  broad  wrinkled  glitter  of  black  sea  water, 
overarched  by  buildings,  and  vanishing  either  way  into 
a  blackness  starred  with  receding  lights.  A  string  of 
black  barges  passed  seaward,  manned  by  blue-clad 
men.  The  road  was  a  long  and  very  broad  and  high 
tunnel,  along  which  big-wheeled  machines  drove 
noiselessly  and  swiftly.  Here,  too,  the  distinctive  blue 
of  the  Labour  Company  was  in  abundance.  The 
smoothness  of  the  double  tracks,  the  largeness  and  the 
lightness  of  the  big  pneumatic  wheels  in  proportion  to 
the  vehicular  body,  struck  Graham  most  vividly.  One 
lank  and  very  high  carriage  with  longitudinal  metallic 
rods  hung  with  the  dripping  carcasses  of  many  hun- 
dred sheep  arrested  his  attention  unduly.  Abruptly 
the  edge  of  the  archway  cut  and  blotted  out  the 
picture. 

Presently  they  left  the  way  and  descended  by  a  lift 
and  traversed  a  passage  that  sloped  downward,  and 

269 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

so  came  to  a  descending  lift  again.  The  appearance 
of  things  changed.  Even  the  pretence  of  architec- 
tural ornament  disappeared,  the  lights  diminished  in 
number  and  size,  the  architecture  became  more  and 
more  massive  in  proportion  to  the  spaces  as  the  fac- 
tory quarters  were  reached.  And  in  the  dusty  biscuit- 
making  place  of  the  potters,  among  the  felspar  mills. 
in  the  furnace  rooms  of  the  metal  workers,  among  the 
incandescent  lakes  of  crude  Eadhamite,  the  blue  can- 
vas clothing  was  on  man,  woman  and  child. 

Many  of  these  great  and  dusty  galleries  were  silent 
avenues  of  machinery,  endless  raked  out  ashen  fur- 
naces testified  to  the  revolutionary  dislocation,  but 
wherever  there  was  work  it  was  being  done  by  slow- 
moving  workers  in  blue  canvas.  The  only  people  not 
in  blue  canvas  were  the  overlookers  of  the  work-places 
and  the  orange-clad  Labour  Police.  And  fresh  from 
the  flushed  faces  of  the  dancing  halls,  the  voluntary 
vigours  of  the  business  quarter,  Graham  could  note 
the  pinched  faces,  the  feeble  muscles,  and  weary  eyes 
of  many  of  the  latter-day  workers.  Such  as  he  saw  at 
work  were  noticeably  inferior  in  physique  to  the  few 
gaily  dressed  managers  and  forewomen  who  were 
directing  their  labours.  The  burly  labourers  of  the  old 
Victorian  times  had  followed  the  dray  horse  and  all 
such  living  force  producers,  to  extinction;  the  place  of 
his  costly  muscles  was  taken  by  some  dexterous 
machine.  The  latter-day  labourer,  male  as  well  as 
female,  was  essentially  a  machine-minder  and  feeder, 
a  servant  and  attendant,  or  an  artist  under  direction. 

The  women,  in  comparison  with  those  Graham 
remembered,  were  as  a  class  distinctly  plain  and  flat- 

270 


THE  UNDER  SIDE 

chested.  Two  hundred  years  of  emancipation  from 
the  moral  restraints  of  Puritanical  religion,  two  hun- 
dred years  of  city  life,  had  done  their  work  in  elimi- 
nating the  strain  of  feminine  beauty  and  vigour  from 
the  blue  canvas  myriads.  To  be  brilliant  physically 
or  mentally,  to  be  in  any  way  attractive  or  exceptional, 
had  been  and  was  still  a  certain  way  of  emancipation 
to  the  drudge,  a  line  of  escape  to  the  Pleasure  City 
and  its  splendours  and  delights,  and  at  last  to  the 
Euthanasy  and  peace.  To  be  steadfast  against  such 
inducements  was  scarcely  to  be  expected  of  meanly 
nourished  souls.  In  the  young  cities  of  Graham's 
former  life,  the  newly  aggregated  labouring  mass  had 
been  a  diverse  multitude,  still  stirred  by  the  tradition 
of  personal  honour  and  a  high  morality;  now  it  was 
differentiating  into  a  distinct  class,  with  a  moral  and 
physical  difiference  of  its  own  —  even  with  a  dialect  of 
its  own. 

They  penetrated  downward,  ever  downward,  towards 
the  working  places.  Presently  they  passed  underneath 
one  of  the  streets  of  the  moving  ways,  and  saw  its  plat- 
forms running  on  their  rails  far  overhead,  and  chinks 
of  white  lights  between  the  transverse  slits.  The 
factories  that  were  not  working  were  sparsely  lighted; 
to  Graham  they  and  their  shrouded  aisles  of  giant 
machines  seemed  plunged  in  gloom,  and  even  where 
work  was  going  on  the  illumination  was  far  less 
brilliant  than  upon  the  public  ways. 

Beyond  the  blazing  lakes  of  Eadhamite  he  came  to 
the  warren  of  the  jewellers,  and,  with  some  difficulty 
and  by  using  his  signature,  obtained  admission  to 
these  galleries.     They  were  high  and  dark,  and  rather 

271 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

cold.  In  the  first  a  few  men  were  making  ornaments 
of  gold  filigree,  each  man  at  a  little  bench  by  himself, 
and  with  a  little  shaded  light.  The  long  vista  of  light 
patches,  with  the  nimble  fingers  brightly  lit  and 
moving  among  the  gleaming  yellow  coils,  and  the 
intent  face  like  the  face  of  a  ghost,  in  each  shadow, 
had  the  oddest  effect. 

The  work  was  beautifully  executed,  but  without  any 
strength  of  modelling  or  drawing,  for  the  most  part 
intricate  grotesques  or  the  ringing  of  the  changes  on 
a  geometrical  motif.  These  workers  wore  a  peculiar 
white  uniform  without  pockets  or  sleeves.  They 
assumed  this  on  coming  to  work,  but  at  night  they 
were  stripped  and  examined  before  they  left  the 
premises  of  the  Company.  In  spite  of  every  precau- 
tion, the  Labour  policeman  told  them  in  a  depressed 
tone,  the  Company  was  not  infrequently  robbed. 

Beyond  was  a  gallery  of  women  busied  in  cutting 
and  setting  slabs  of  artificial  ruby,  and  next  these  were 
men  and  women  busied  together  upon  the  slabs  of 
copper  net  that  formed  the  basis  of  cloisonne  tiles. 
Many  of  these  workers  had  lips  and  nostrils  a  livid 
white,  due  to  a  disease  caused  by  a  peculiar  purple 
enamel  that  chanced  to  be  much  in  fashion.  Asano 
apologised  to  Graham  for  the  oflfence  of  their  faces,  but 
excused  himself  on  the  score  of  the  convenience  of  this 
route.  "This  is  what  I  wanted  to  see,"  said  Graham; 
"  this  is  what  I  wanted  to  see,"  trying  to  avoid  a  start 
at  a  particularly  striking  disfigurement  that  suddenly 
stared  him  in  the  face. 

"She  might  have  done  better  with  herself  than 
that,"  said  Asano. 

272 


THE  UNDER  SIDE 

Graham  made  some  indignant  comments. 

"  But,  Sire,  we  simply  could  not  stand  that  stuff 
without  the  purple,"  said  Asano.  "  In  your  days  peo- 
ple could  stand  such  crudities,  they  were  nearer  the 
barbaric  by  two  hundred  years." 

They  continued  along  one  of  the  lower  galleries  of 
this  cloisonne  factory,  and  came  to  a  little  bridge  that 
spanned  a  vault.  Looking  over  the  parapet,  Graham 
saw  that  beneath  was  a  wharf  under  yet  more  tre- 
mendous archings  than  any  he  had  seen.  Three 
barges,  smothered  in  floury  dust,  were  being  unloaded 
of  their  cargoes  of  powdered  felspar  by  a  multitude 
of  coughing  men,  each  guiding  a  Httle  truck;  the  dust 
filled  the  place  with  a  choking  mist,  and  turned  the 
electric  glare  yellow.  The  vague  shadows  of  these 
workers  gesticulated  about  their  feet,  and  rushed  to 
and  fro  against  a  long  stretch  of  white-washed  wall. 
Every  now  and  then  one  would  stop  to  cough. 

A  shadowy,  huge  mass  of  masonry  rising  out  of  the 
inky  water,  brought  to  Graham's  mind  the  thought  of 
the  multitude  of  ways  and  galleries  and  lifts,  that  rose 
floor  above  floor  overhead  between  him  and  the  sky. 
The  men  worked  in  silence  under  the  supervision  of 
two  of  the  Labour  Police;  their  feet  made  a  hollow 
thunder  on  the  planks  along  which  they  went  to  and 
fro.  And  as  he  looked  at  this  scene,  some  hidden 
voice  in  the  darkness  began  to  sing, 

"  Stop  that! "  shouted  one  of  the  policemen,  but  the 
order  was  disobeyed,  and  first  one  and  then  all  the 
white-stained  men  who  were  working  there  had  taken 
up  the  beating  refrain,  singing  it  defiantly,  the  Song 
of  the  Revolt.     The  feet  upon  the  planks  thundered 

273  s 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

now  to  the  rhythm  of  the  song,  tramp,  tramp,  tramp. 
The  poHceman  who  had  shouted  glanced  at  his  fellow, 
and  Graham  saw  him  shrug  his  shoulders.  He  made 
no  further  effort  to  stop  the  singing. 

And  so  tliey  went  through  these  factories  and  places 
of  toil,  seeing  many  painful  and  grim  things.     But 
why  should  the  gentle  reader  be  depressed?     Surely 
to  a  refined  nature  our  present  world  is  distressing 
enough    without    bothering    ourselves    about    these 
miseries  to  come.    We  shall  not  suffer  anyhow.    Our 
children  may,  but  what  is  that  to  us?  That  walk  left  on 
Graham's  mind  a  maze  of  memories,  fluctuating  pic- 
tures of  swathed  halls,  and  crowded  vaults  seen  through 
clouds  of  dust,  of  intricate  machines,  the  racing  threads 
of  looms,  the  heavy  beat  of  stamping  machinery,  the 
roar  and  rattle  of  belt  and  armature,  of  ill-lit  subter- 
ranean aisles  of  sleeping  places,  illimitable  vistas  of 
pin-point  lights.    And  here  the  smell  of  tanning,  and 
here  the  reek  of  a  brewery  and  here,  unprecedented 
reeks.     And  every\vhere  were  pillars  and  cross  arch- 
ings  of  such  a  massiveness  as  Graham  had  never  before 
seen,  thick  Titans  of  greasy,  shining  brickwork  crushed 
beneath  the  vast  weight  of  that  complex  city  world, 
even  as  these  anaemic  millions  were  crushed  by  its 
complexity.     And  everywhere  were  pale  features,  lean 
limbs,  disfigurement  and  degradation. 

Once  and  again,  and  again  a  third  time,  Graham 
heard  the  song  of  the  revolt  during  his  long, 
unpleasant  research  in  these  places,  and  once  he  saw 
a  confused  struggle  down  a  passage,  and  learnt  that 
a  number  of  these  serfs  had  seized  their  bread  before 
their  work  was  done.    Graham  was  ascending  towards 

274 


THE  UNDER  SIDE 

the  ways  again  when  he  saw  a  number  of  blue-clad 
children  running  down  a  transverse  passage,  and 
presently  perceived  the  reason  of  their  panic  in  a 
company  of  the  Labour  Police  armed  with  clubs, 
trotting  towards  some  unknown  disturbance.  And 
then  came  a  remote  disorder.  But  for  the  most  part 
this  remnant  that  worked,  worked  hopelessly.  All  the 
spirit  that  was  left  in  fallen  humanity  was  above  in  the 
streets  that  night,  calling  for  the  Master,  and  valiantly 
and  noisily  keeping  its  arms. 

They  emerged  from  these  wanderings  and  stood 
blinking  in  the  bright  light  of  the  middle  passage  of 
the  platforms  again.  They  became  aware  of  the 
remote  hooting  and  yelping  of  the  machines  of  one  of 
the  General  Intelligence  Offices,  and  suddenly  came 
men  running,  and  along  the  platforms  and  about  the 
ways  everywhere  was  a  shouting  and  crying.  Then 
a  woman  with  a  face  of  mute  white  terror,  and  another 
who  gasped  and  shrieked  as  she  ran. 

"What  has  happened  now?"  said  Graham,  puzzled, 
for  he  could  not  understand  their  thick  speech.  Then 
he  heard  it  in  English  and  perceived  that  the  thing 
that  everyone  was  shouting,  that  men  yelled  to  one 
another,  that  women  took  up  screaming,  that  was 
passing  Hke  the  first  breeze  of  a  thunderstorm,  chill 
and  sudden  through  the  city,  was  this :  "  Ostrog  has 
ordered  the  Black  Police  to  London.  The  Black 
Police  are  coming  from  South  Africa.  .  .  .  The 
Black  Police.    The  Black  Police." 

Asano's  face  was  white  and  astonished;  he  hesi- 
tated, looked  at  Graham's  face,  and  told  him  the  thing 

275 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

he  already  knew.    "But  how  can  they  know?"  asked 
Asano. 

Graham  heard  someone  shouting.  "  Stop  all  work. 
Stop  all  work,"  and  a  swarthy  hunchback,  ridiculously 
gay  in  green  and  gold,  came  leaping  down  the  plat- 
forms toward  him,  bawling  again  and  again  in  good 
English,  "This  is  Ostrog's  doing,  Ostrog,  the  Knave! 
The  Master  is  betrayed."  His  voice  was  hoarse  and  a 
thin  foam  dropped  from  his  ugly  shouting  mouth.  He 
yelled  an  unspeakable  horror  that  the  Black  Police 
had  done  in  Paris,  and  so  passed  shrieking,  "  Ostrog 
the  Knave !  " 

For  a  moment  Graham  stood  still,  for  it  had  come 
upon  him  again  that  these  things  were  a  dream.  He 
looked  up  at  the  great  cliff  of  buildings  on  either  side, 
vanishing  into  blue  haze  at  last  above  the  lights,  and 
down  to  the  roaring  tiers  of  platforms,  and  the 
shouting,  running  people  who  were  gesticulating  past. 
"The  Master  is  betrayed!"  they  cried.  "The  Master 
is  betrayed ! " 

Suddenly  the  situation  shaped  itself  in  his  mind  real 
and  urgent.     His  heart  began  to  beat  fast  and  strong. 

"  It  has  come,"  he  said.  "  I  might  have  known.  The 
hour  has  come." 

He  thought  swiftly.     "  What  am  I  to  do? " 

"  Go  back  to  the  Council  House,"  said  Asano. 

"Why  should  I  not  appeal — ?  The  people  are 
here." 

"You  will  lose  time.  They  will  doubt  if  it  is  you. 
But  they  will  mass  about  the  Council  House.  There 
you  will  find'  their  leaders.  Your  strength  is  there  — 
with  them." 

276 


d 


THE  UNDER  SIDE 

"Suppose  this  is  only  a  rumour?" 

"  It  sounds  true,"  said  Asano. 

"  Let  us  have  the  facts,"  said  Graham. 

Asano  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "We  had  better 
get  towards  the  Council  House,"  he  cried.  "  That  is 
where  they  will  swarm.  Even  now  the  ruins  may  be 
impassable." 

Graham  regarded  him  doubtfully  and  followed  him. 

They  went  up  the  stepped  platforms  to  the  swiftest 
one,  and  there  Asano  accosted  a  labourer.  The 
answers  to  his  questions  were  in  the  thick,  vulgar 
speech. 

"  What  did  he  say?  "  asked  Graham. 

"He  knows  Httle,  but  he  told  me  that  the  Black 
Police  would  have  arrived  here  before  the  people 
knew  —  had  not  someone  in  the  Wind-Vane  Offices 
learnt.     He  said  a  girl." 

"A  girl?     Not—?" 

"  He  said  a  girl  —  he  did  not  know  who  she  was. 
Who  came  out  from  the  Council  House  crying  aloud, 
and  told  the  men  at  work  among  the  ruins." 

And  then  another  thing  was  shouted,  something 
that  turned  an  aimless  tumult  into  determinate  move- 
ments, it  came  like  a  wind  along  the  street.  "  To  your 
Wards,  to  your  Wards.  Every  man  get  arms.  Every 
man  to  his  Ward!'^ 


277 


CHAPTER  XXII 
THE  STRUGGLE   IN   THE   COUNCIL  HOUSE 

As  Asano  and  Graham  hurried  along  to  the  ruins 
about  the  Council  House,  they  saw  everywhere  the 
excitement  of  the  people  rising.  "To  your  Wards! 
To  your  Wards!"  Everywhere  men  and  women  m 
blue  were  hurrying  from  unknown  subterranean 
employments,  up  the  staircases  of  the  middle  path;  at 
one  place  Graham  saw  an  arsenal  of  the  revolutionary 
committee  besieged  by  a  crowd  of  shoutmg  men,  at 
another  a  couple  of  men  in  the  hated  yellow  uniform 
of  the  Labour  Police,  pursued  by  a  gathering  crowd, 
fled  precipitately  along  the  swift  way  that  went  in  the 
opposite  direction.  .  i     4.  „ 

The  cries  of  "To  your  Wards!"  became  at  last  a 
continuous  shouting  as  they  drew  near  the  Govern- 
ment quarter.  Many  of  the  shouts  were  /^n^nt^ll^- 
^ble  "  Ostrog  has  betrayed  us,"  one  man  bawled  m 
a  hoarse  voice,  again  and  again,  dinning  that  refrain 
into  Graham's  ear  until  it  haunted  him.  This  person 
staved  close  beside  Graham  and  Asano  on  the  swift 
way,  shouting  to  the  people  who  swarmed  on  the  lower 
pjjorms  as  he  rushed  past  them.  His  cry  about 
Ostrog  alternated  with  some  mcomprehensible  orders. 
Presently  he  went  leaping  down  and  disappeared. 

Graham's  mind  was  filled  with  the  din.     His  plans 
were  vague  and  unformed.     He  had  one  picture  of 


THE  STRUGGLE  IN  THE  COUNCIL  HOUSE 

some  commanding  position  from  which  he  could 
address  the  multitudes,  another  of  meeting  Ostrog  face 
to  face.  He  was  full  of  rage,  of  tense  muscular  excite- 
ment, his  hands  gripped,  his  lips  were  pressed  together. 

The  way  to  the  Council  House  across  the  ruins  was 
impassable,  but  Asano  met  that  difficulty  and  took 
Graham  into  the  premises  uf  the  central  post-office. 
The  post-office  was  nominally  at  work,  but  the  blue- 
clothed  porters  moved  sluggishly  or  had  stopped  to 
stare  through  the  arches  of  their  galleries  at  the 
shouting  men  who  were  going  by  outside.  "  Every 
man  to  his  Ward!  Every  man  to  his  Ward!"  Here, 
by  Asano's  advice,  Graham  revealed  his  identity. 

They  crossed  to  the  Council  House  by  a  cable 
cradle.  Already  in  the  brief  interval  since  the  capitu- 
lation of  the  Councillors  a  great  change  had  been 
wrought  in  the  appearance  of  the  ruins.  The  spurting 
cascades  of  the  ruptured  sea  water-mains  had  been  cap- 
tured and  tamed,  and  huge  temporary  pipes  ran  over- 
head along  a  flimsy  looking  fabric  of  girders.  The 
sky  was  laced  with  restored  cables  and  wires  that 
served  the  Council  House,  and  a  mass  of  new  fabric 
with  cranes  and  other  building  machines  going  to  and 
fro  upon  it,  projected  to  the  left  of  the  white  pile. 

The  moving  ways  that  ran  across  this  area  had 
been  restored,  albeit  for  once  running  under  the  open 
sky.  These  were  the  ways  that  Graham  had  seen  from 
the  little  balcony  in  the  hour  of  his  awakening,  not 
nine  days  since,  and  the  hall  of  his  Trance  had  been  on 
the  further  side,  where  now  shapeless  piles  of  smashed 
and  shattered  masonry  were  heaped  together. 

It  vv'as  already  high  day  and  the  sun  was  shining 
279 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

brightly.  Out  of  their  tall  caverns  of  blue  electric 
light  came  the  swift  ways  crowded  with  multitudes  of 
people,  w^ho  poured  ofT  them  and  gathered  ever  denser 
over  the  wreckage  and  confusion  of  the  ruins.  The 
air  was  full  of  their  shouting,  and  they  were  pressing 
and  swaying  towards  the  central  building.  For  the 
most  part  that  shouting  mass  consisted  of  shapeless 
swarms,  but  here  and  there  Graham  could  see  that  a 
rude  discipline  struggled  to  establish  itself.  And  every 
voice  clamoured  for  order  in  the  chaos.  "  To  your 
Wards !     Every  man  to  his  Ward !  " 

The  cable  carried  them  into  a  hall  which  Graham 
recognised  as  the  ante-chamber  to  the  Hall  of  the 
Atlas,  about  the  gallery  of  which  he  had  walked  days 
ago  with  Howard  to  show  himself  to  the  vanished 
Council,  an  hour  from  his  awakening.  Now  the  place 
was  empty  except  for  two  cable  attendants.  These 
men  seemed  hugely  astonished  to  recognise  the 
Sleeper  in  the  man  who  swung  down  from  the  cross 
seat. 

"Where  is  Helen  Wotton?"  he  demanded.  "Where 
is  Helen  Wotton?" 

They  did  not  know. 

"Then  where  is  Ostrog?  I  must  see  Ostrog  forth- 
with. He  has  disobeyed  me.  I  have  come  back  to 
take  things  out  of  his  hands."  Without  waiting  for 
Asano,  he  went  straight  across  the  place,  ascended  the 
steps  at  the  further  end,  and,  pulling  the  curtain  aside, 
found  himself  facing  the  perpetually  labouring  Titan. 

The  hall  was  empty.  Its  appearance  had  changed 
very  greatly  since  his  first  sight  of  it.  It  had  suffered 
serious  injury  in  the  violent  struggle  of  the  first  out- 

280 


THE  STRUGGLE  IN  THE  COUNCIL  HOUSE 

break.  On  the  right  hand  side  of  the  great  figure  the 
upper  half  of  the  wall  had  been  torn  away  for  nearly 
two  hundred  feet  of  its  length,  and  a  sheet  of  the  same 
glassy  film  that  had  enclosed  Graham  at  his  awakening 
had  been  drawn  across  the  gap.  This  deadened,  but 
did  not  altogether  exclude  the  roar  of  the  people  out- 
side. "Wards!  Wards!  Wards!"  they  seemed  to 
be  saying.  Through  it  there  were  visible  the  beams 
and  supports  of  metal  scaffoldings  that  rose  and  fell 
according  to  the  requirements  of  a  great  crowd  of 
workmen.  An  idle  building  machine,  with  lank  arms 
of  red  painted  metal  that  caught  the  still  plastic  blocks 
of  mineral  paste  and  swung  them  neatly  into  position, 
stretched  gauntly  across  this  green  tinted  picture.  On 
it  were  still  a  number  of  workmen  staring  at  the  crowd 
below.  For  a  moment  he  stood  regarding  these 
things,  and  Asano  overtook  him. 

"  Ostrog,"  said  Asano,  "  will  be  in  the  small  offices 
beyond  there."  The  little  man  looked  livid  now  and 
his  eyes  searched  Graham's  face. 

They  had  scarcely  advanced  ten  paces  from  the 
curtain  before  a  little  panel  to  the  left  of  the  Atlas 
rolled  up,  and  Ostrog,  accompanied  by  Lincoln  and 
followed  by  two  black  and  yellow  clad  negroes, 
appeared  crossing  the  remote  corner  of  the  hall, 
towards  a  second  panel  that  was  raised  and  open. 
"  Ostrog,"  shouted  Graham,  and  at  the  sound  of  his 
voice  the  little  party  turned  astonished. 

Ostrog  said  something  to  Lincoln  and  advanced 
alone. 

Graham  was  the  first  to  speak.  His  voice  was  loud 
and  dictatorial.     "What  is  this  I  hear?"  he   asked. 

281 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  Are  you  bringing  negroes  here  —  to  keep  the  people 
down?" 

"  It  is  none  too  soon,"  said  Ostrog.  "  They  have 
been  getting  out  of  hand  more  and  more,  since  the 
revolt.  I  under-estimated — " 

"  Do  you  mean  that  these  infernal  negroes  are  on 
the  way?" 

"  On  the  way.  As  it  is,  you  have  seen  the  people  — 
outside?" 

"No  wonder!  '^ut  —  after  what  was  said.  You 
have  taken  too  much  on  yourself,  Ostrog." 

Ostrog  said  nothing,  but  drew  nearer, 

"These  negroes  must  not  come  to  London,"  said 
Graham.     "  I  am  Master  and  they  shall  not  come." 

Ostrog  glanced  at  Lincoln,  who  at  once  came 
towards  them  with  his  two  attendants  close  behind 
him.     "  Why  not?  "  asked  Ostrog. 

"  White  men  must  be  mastered  by  white  men. 
Besides  — " 

"  The  negroes  are  only  an  instrument." 

"  But  that  is  not  the  question.  I  am  the  Master.  I 
mean  to  be  the  ^Master.  And  I  tell  you  these  negroes 
shall  not  come." 

"  The  people  —  " 

"  I  believe  in  the  people." 

"  Because  you  are  an  anachronism.  You  are  a  man 
out  of  the  Past  —  an  accident.  You  are  Owner  per- 
haps of  half  the  property  in  the  world.  But  you  are 
not  Master.    You  do  not  know  enough  to  be  Master." 

He  glanced  at  Lincoln  again.  "  I  know  now  what 
you  think  —  I  can  guess  something  of  what  you  mean 
to  do.     Even  now  it  is  not  too  late  to  warn  you.    You 

282 


THE  STRUGGLE  IN  THE  COUNCIL  HOUSE 

dream  of  human  equality  —  of  a  socialistic  order  — 
you  have  all  those  worn-out  dreams  of  the  nineteenth 
century  fresh  and  vivid  in  your  mind,  and  you  would 
rule  this  age  that  you  do  not  understand." 

"  Listen !  "  said  Graham.  "  You  can  hear  it  —  a 
sound  like  the  sea.  Not  voices  —  but  a  voice.  Do 
you  altogether  understand?  " 

"  We  taught  them  that,"  said  Ostrog. 

"  Perhaps.  Can  you  teach  them  to  forget  it?  But 
enough  of  this!     These  negroes  must  not  come." 

There  was  a  pause  and  Ostrog  looked  him  in  the 
eyes. 

"  They  will,"  he  said. 

"  I  forbid  it,"  said  Graham. 

"They  have  started." 

"  I  will  not  have  it." 

"  No,"  said  Ostrog.  "  Sorry  as  I  am  to  follow  the 
method  of  the  Council — .  For  your  own  good  — 
you  must  not  side  with  —  Disorder.  And  now  that 
you  are  here  — .     It  was  kind  of  you  to  come  here." 

Lincoln  laid  his  hand  on  Graham's  shoulder. 
Abrupdy  Graham  realized  the  enormity  of  his  blunder 
in  coming  to  the  Council  House.  He  turned  towards 
the  curtains  that  separated  the  hall  from  the  ante- 
chamber. The  clutching  hand  of  Asano  intervened. 
In  another  moment  Lincoln  had  grasped  Graham's 
cloak. 

He  turned  and  struck  at  Lincoln's  face,  and  incon- 
tinently a  negro  had  him  by  collar  and  arm.  He 
wrenched  himself  away,  his  sleeve  tore  noisily,  and  he 
stumbled  back,  to  be  tripped  by  the  other  attendant. 

283 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Then  he  struck  the  ground  heavily  and  he  was  staring 
at  the  distant  ceiling  of  the  hall. 

He  shouted,  rolled  over,  struggling  fiercely,  clutched 
an  attendant's  leg  and  threw  him  headlong,  and 
struggled  to  his  feet. 

Lincoln  appeared  before  him,  went  down  heavily 
again  with  a  blow  under  the  point  of  the  jaw  and  lay 
still.  Graham  made  two  strides,  stumbled.  And  then 
Ostrog's  arm  was  round  his  neck,  he  was  pulled  over 
backward,  fell  heavily,  and  his  arms  were  pinned  to  the 
ground.  After  a  few  violent  efforts  he  ceased  to 
struggle  and  lay  staring  at  Ostrog's  heaving  throat. 

"  You  —  are  —  a  prisoner,"  panted  Ostrog,  exult- 
ing.    "  You  —  were  rather  a  fool  —  to  come  back.'' 

Graham  turned  his  head  about  and  perceived 
through  the  irregular  green  window  in  the  walls  of 
the  hall  the  men  who  had  been  working  the  building 
cranes  gesticulating  excitedly  to  the  people  below  them. 
They  had  seen! 

Ostrog  followed  his  eyes  and  started.  He  shouted 
something  to  Lincoln,  but  Lincoln  did  not  move.  A 
bullet  smashed  among  the  mouldings  above  the  Atlas. 
The  two  sheets  of  transparent  matter  that  had  been 
stretched  across  this  gap  were  rent,  the  edges  of  the 
torn  aperture  darkened,  curved,  ran  rapidly  towards 
the  framework,  and  in  a  moment  the  Council  chamber 
stood  open  to  the  air.  A  chilly  gust  blew  in  by  the 
gap,  bringing  with  it  a  war  of  voices  from  the  ruinous 
spaces  without,  an  elvish  babblement,  "  Save  the 
Master!"  "What  are  they  doing  to  the  Master?" 
"  The  Master  is  betrayed! " 

And  then  he  realised'  that  Ostrog's  attention  was 
284 


THE  STRUGGLE  IN  THE  COUNCIL  HOUvSE 

distracted,  that  Ostrog's  grip  had  relaxed,  and, 
wrenching  his  arms  free,  he  struggled  to  his  knees. 
In  another  moment  he  had  thrust  Ostrog  back,  and 
he  was  on  one  foot,  his  hand  gripping  Ostrog's  throat, 
and  Ostrog's  hands  clutching  the  silk  about  his  neck. 

But  now  men  were  coming  towards  them  from  the 
dais  —  men  whose  intentions  he  misunderstood.  He 
had  a  glimpse  of  someone  running  in  the  distance 
towards  the  curtains  of  the  antechamber,  and  then 
Ostrog  had  slipped  from  him  and  these  newcomers 
were  upon  him.  To  his  infinite  astonishment,  they 
seized  him.     They  obeyed  the  shouts  of  Ostrog. 

He  was  lugged  a  dozen  yards  before  he  realised  that 
they  were  not  friends  —  that  they  were  dragging  him 
towards  the  open  panel.  When  he  saw  this  he  pulled 
back,  he  tried  to  fling  himself  down,  he  shouted  for 
help  with  all  his  strength.  And  this  time  there  were 
answering  cries. 

The  grip  upon  his  neck  relaxed,  and  behold!  in  the 
lower  corner  of  the  rent  upon  the  wall,  first  one  and 
then  a  number  of  little  black  figures  appeared  shouting 
and  waving  arms.  They  came  leaping  down  from 
the  gap  into  the  light  gallery  that  had  led  to  the  Silent 
Rooms.  They  ran  along  it,  so  near  were  they  that 
Graham  could  see  the  weapons  in  their  hands.  Then 
Ostrog  was  shouting  in  his  ear  to  the  men  who  held 
him,  and  once  more  he  was  struggling  with  all  his 
strength  against  their  endeavours  to  thrust  him  towards 
the  opening  that  yawned  to  receive  him.  "  They  can't 
come  down,"  panted  Ostrog.  "They  daren't  fire. 
It's  all  right."    "  We'll  save  him  from  them  yet." 

For  long  minutes  as  it  seemed  to  Graham  that 
285 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

inglorious  struggle  continued.  His  clothes  were  rent 
in  a  dozen  places,  he  was  covered  in  dust,  one  hand 
had  been  trodden  upon.  He  could  hear  the  shouts  of 
his  supporters,  and  once  he  heard  shots.  He  could 
feel  his  strength  giving  way,  feel  his  efforts  wild  and 
aimless.  But  no  help  came,  and  surely,  irresistibly, 
that  black,  yawning  opening  came  nearer. 

The  pressure  upon  him  relaxed  and  he  struggled 
up.  He  saw  Ostrog's  grey  head  receding  and  per- 
ceived that  he  was  no  longer  held.  He  turned  about 
and  came  full  into  a  man  in  black.  One  of  the  green 
weapons  cracked  close  to  him,  a  drift  of  pungent 
smoke  came  into  his  face,  and  a  steel  blade  flashed. 
The  huge  chamber  span  about  him. 

He  saw  a  man  in  pale  blue  stabbing  one  of  the  black 
and  yellow  attendants  not  three  yards  from  his  face. 
Then  hands  were  upon  him  again. 

He  was  being  pulled  in  two  directions  now.  It 
seemed  as  though  people  were  shouting  to  him.  He 
wanted  to  understand  and  could  not.  Someone  was 
clutching  about  his  thighs,  he  was  being  hoisted  in 
spite  of  his  vigorous  efforts.  He  understood  suddenly, 
he  ceased  to  struggle.  He  was  lifted  up  on  men's 
shoulders  and  carried  away  from  that  devouring  panel. 
Ten  thousand  throats  were  cheering. 

He  saw  men  in  blue  and  black  hurrying  after  the 
retreating  Ostrogites  and  firing.  Lifted  up,  he  saw 
now  across  the  whole  expanse  of  the  hall  beneath  the 
Atlas  image,  saw  that  he  was  being  carried  towards 
the  raised  platform  in  the  centre  of  the  place.  The  far 
end  of  the  hall  was  already  full  of  people  running 
towards  him.    They  were  looking  at  him  and  cheering. 

286 


THE  STRUGGLE  IN  THE  COUNCIL  HOUSE 

He  became  aware  that  a  sort  of  body-guard  sur- 
rounded him.  Active  men  about  him  shouted  vague 
orders.  He  saw  close  at  hand  the  black  moustached 
man  in  yellow  who  had  been  among  those  who  had 
greeted  him  in  the  public  theatre,  shouting  directions. 
The  hall  was  already  densely  packed  with  swaying 
people,  the  little  metal  gallery  sagged  with  a  shouting 
load,  the  curtains  at  the  end  had  been  torn  away,  and 
the  ante-chamber  was  revealed  densely  crowded.  He 
could  scarcely  make  the  man  near  him  hear  for  the 
tumult  about  them.  "Where  has  Ostrog  gone?"  he 
asked. 

The  man  he  questioned  pointed  over  the  heads 
towards  the  lower  panels  about  the  hall  on  the  side 
opposite  the  gap.  They  stood  open  and  armed  men, 
blue  clad  with  black  sashes,  were  running  through  them 
and  vanishing  into  the  chambers  and  passages  beyond. 
It  seemed  to  Graham  that  a  sound  of  firing  drifted 
through  the  riot.  He  was  carried  in  a  staggering 
curve  across  the  great  hall  tov/ards  an  opening  beneath 
the  gap. 

He  perceived  men  working  with  a  sort  of  rude  disci- 
pline to  keep  the  crowd  off  him,  to  make  a  space  clear 
about  him.  He  passed  out  of  the  hall,  and  saw  a 
crude,  new  wall  rising  blankly  before  him  topped  by 
blue  sky.  He  was  swung  down  to  his  feet;  someone 
gripped  his  arm  and  guided  him.  He  found  the  man 
in  yellow  close  at  hand.  They  were  taking  him  up  a 
narrow  stairway  of  brick,  and  close  at  hand  rose  the 
great  red  painted  masses,  the  cranes  and  levers  and 
the  still  engines  of  the  big  building  machine. 

He  was  at  the  top  of  the  steps.     He  was  hurried 
287 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

across  a  narrow  railed  footway,  and  suddenly  with  a 
vast  shouting  the  amphitheatre  of  ruins  opened  again 
before  him.  "The  jMaster  is  with  us!  The  Master! 
The  blaster!"  The  shout  swept  athwart  the  lake  of 
faces  like  a  wave,  broke  against  the  distant  cliff  of 
ruins,  and  came  back  in  a  welter  of  cries.  "  The 
Iklaster  is  on  our  side!  " 

Graham  perceived  that  he  was  no  longer  encom- 
passed by  people,  that  he  was  standing  upon  a  little 
temporary  platform  of  white  metal,  part  of  a  flimsy 
seeming  scaffolding  that  laced  about  the  great  mass 
of  the  Council  House.  Over  all  the  huge  expanse 
of  the  ruins,  swayed  and  eddied  the  shouting  people; 
and  here  and  there  the  black  banners  of  the  revolu- 
tionary societies  ducked  and  swayed  and  formed  rare 
nuclei  of  organisation  in  the  chaos.  Up  the  steep 
stairs  of  wall  and  scaffolding  by  which  his  rescuers 
had  reached  the  opening  in  the  Atlas  Chamber,  clung 
a  solid  crowd,  and  little  energetic  black  figures  cling- 
ing to  pillars  and  projections  were  strenuous  to  induce 
these  congested  masses  to  stir.  Behind  him,  at  a 
higher  point  on  the  scaffolding,  a  number  of  men 
struggled  upwards  with  the  flapping  folds  of  a  huge 
black  standard.  Through  the  yawning  gap  in  the 
walls  below  him  he  could  look  down  upon  the  packed 
attentive  multitudes  in  the  Hall  of  the  Atlas.  The 
distant  flying  stages  to  the  south  came  out  bright  and 
vivid,  brought  nearer  as  it  seemed  by  an  unusual 
translucency  of  the  air.  A  solitary  aeropile  beat  up 
from  the  central  stage  as  if  to  meet  the  coming 
aeroplanes. 

"  What  had  become  of  Ostrog?  "  asked  Graham,  and 
288 


THE  STRUGGLE  IN  THE  COUNCIL  HOUSE 

even  as  he  spoke  he  saw  that  all  eyes  were  turned 
from  him  towards  the  crest  of  the  Council  House 
building-.  He  looked  also  in  this  direction  of  universal 
attention.  For  a  moment  he  saw  nothing  but  the 
jagged  corner  of  a  wall,  hard  and  clear  against  the 
sky.  Then  in  the  shadow  he  perceived  the  interior  of 
a  room  and  recognised  with  a  start  the  green  and 
white  decorations  of  his  former  prison.  And  coming 
quickly  across  this  opened  room  and  up  to  the  very 
verge  of  the  cliff  of  the  ruins  came  a  little  white  clad 
figure  followed  by  two  other  smaller  seeming  figures 
in  black  and  yellow.  He  heard  the  man  beside  him 
exclaim  "  Ostrog,"  and  turned  to  ask  a  question.  But 
he  never  did,  because  of  the  startled  exclamation  of 
another  of  those  who  were  with  him  and  a  lank  finger 
suddenly  pointing.  He  looked,  and  behold  the 
aeropile  that  had  been  rising  from  the  flying  stage 
when  last  he  had  looked  in  that  direction,  was  driving 
towards  them.  The  swift  steady  flight  was  still  novel 
enough  to  hold  his  attention. 

Nearer  it  came,  growing  rapidly  larger  and  larger, 
until  it  had  swept  over  the  further  edge  of  the  ruins 
and  into  view  of  the  dense  multitudes  below.  It 
drooped  across  the  space  and  rose  and  passed  over- 
head, rising-  to  clear  the  mass  of  the  Council  House, 
a  filmy  translucent  shape  with  the  solitary  aeronaut 
peering  down  through  its  ribs.  It  vanished  beyond 
the  skyline  of  the  ruins. 

Graham  transferred  his  attention  to  Ostrog.  He 
was  signalling  with  his  hands,  and  his  attendants  busy 
breaking  down  the  wall  beside  him.  In  another 
moment  the  aeropile  came  into  view  again,  a  little 

289  T 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

thing  far  away,  coming  round  in  a  wide  curve  and 
going  slower. 

Then  suddenly  the  man  in  yellow  shouted:  "  What 
are  they  doing?  What  are  the  people  doing?  Why 
is  Ostrog  left  there?  Why  is  he  not  captured?  They 
will  lift  him  —  the  aeropile  will  lift  him!     Ah!  " 

The  exclamation  was  echoed  by  a  shout  from  the 
ruins.  The  rattling  sound  of  the  green  weapons 
drifted  across  the  intervening  gulf  to  Graham,  and, 
looking  down,  he  saw  a  number  of  black  and  yellow 
uniforms  running  along  one  of  the  galleries  that  lay 
open  to  the  air  below  the  promontory  upon  which 
Ostrog  stood.  They  fired  as  they  ran  at  men  unseen, 
and  then  emerged  a  number  of  pale  blue  figures  in 
pursuit.  These  minute  fighting  figures  had  the  oddest 
effect;  they  seemed  as  they  ran  like  little  model 
soldiers  in  a  toy.  This  queer  appearance  of  a 
house  cut  open  gave  that  struggle  amidst  furniture 
and  passages  a  quality  of  unreality.  It  was  perhaps 
two  hundred  yards  away  from  him,  and  very  nearly 
fifty  above  the  heads  in  the  ruins  below.  The  black 
and  yellow  men  ran  into  an  open  archway,  and  turned 
and  fired  a  volley.  One  of  the  blue  pursuers  striding 
forward  close  to  the  edge,  flung  up  his  arms,  stag- 
gered sideways,  seemed  to  Graham's  sense  to  hang 
over  the  edge  for  several  seconds,  and  fell  headlong 
down.  Graham  saw  him  strike  a  projecting  corner,  fly 
out,  head  over  heels,  head  over  heels,  and  vanish 
behind  the  red  arm  of  the  building  machine. 

And  then  a  shadow  came  between  Graham  and  the 
sun.  He  looked  up  and  the  sky  was  clear,  but  he 
knew  the  aeropile  had  passed.     Ostrog  had  vanished. 

290 


THE  STRUGGLE  IN  THE  COUNCIL  HOUSE 

The  man  in  yellow  thrust  before  him,  zealous  and  per- 
spiring-, pointing  and  blatent. 

"They  are  grounding!"  cried  the  man  in  yellow. 
"  They  are  grounding.  Tell  the  people  to  fire  at  him. 
Tell  them  to  fire  at  him !  " 

Graham  could  not  understand.  He  heard  loud 
voices  repeating  these  enigmatical  orders. 

Suddenly  over  the  edge  of  the  ruins  he  saw  the  prow 
of  the  aeropile  come  gliding  and  stop  with  a  jerk.  In 
a  moment  Graham  understood  that  the  thing  had 
grounded  in  order  that  Ostrog  might  escape  by  it. 
He  saw  a  blue  haze  climbing  out  of  the  gulf,  perceived 
that  the  people  below  him  were  now  firing  up  at  the 
projecting  stem. 

A  man  beside  him  cheered  hoarsely,  and  he  saw 
that  the  blue  rebels  had  gained  the  archway  that  had 
been  contested  by  the  men  in  black  and  yellow  a 
moment  before,  and  were  running  in  a  continual 
stream  along  the  open  passage. 

And  suddenly  the  aeropile  slipped  over  the  edge  of 
the  Council  House  and  fell.  It  dropped,  tilting  at  an 
angle  of  forty-five  degrees,  and  dropping  so  steeply 
that  it  seemed  to  Graham,  it  seemed  perhaps  to  most 
of  those  below,  that  it  could  not  possibly  rise  again. 

It  fell  so  closely  past  him  that  he  could  see  Ostrog 
clutching  the  guides  of  the  seat,  with  his  grey  hair 
streaming;  see  the  white-faced  aeronaut  wrenching 
over  the  lever  that  drove  the  engine  along  its  guides. 
He  heard  the  apprehensive  vague  cry  of  innumerable 
men  below. 

Graham  clutched  the  railing  before  him  and  gasped. 
The  second  seemed  an  age.    Tlie  lower  van  of  the 

291 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

aeropile  passed  within  an  ace  of  touching  the  people, 
who  yelled  and  screamed  and  trampled  one  another 
below. 

And  then  it  rose. 

For  a  moment  it  looked  as  if  it  could  not  possibly 
clear  the  opposite  cliff,  and  then  that  it  could  not 
possibly  clear  the  wind-wheel  that  rotated  beyond. 

And  behold!  it  was  clear  and  soaring,  still  heeling 
sideways,  upward,  upward  into  the  wind-swept  sky. 

The  suspense  of  the  moment  gave  place  to  a  fury  of 
exasperation  as  the  swarming  people  realised  that 
Ostrog  had  escaped  them.  With  belated  activity  they 
renewed  their  fire,  until  the  rattling  wove  into  a  roar, 
until  the  whole  area  became  dim  and  blue  and  the  air 
pungent  with  the  thin  smoke  of  their  weapons. 

Too  late!  The  aeropile  dwindled  smaller  and 
smaller,  and  curved  about  and  swept  gracefully  down- 
ward to  the  flying  stage  from  which  it  had  so  lately 
risen.     Ostrog  had  escaped. 

For  a  while  a  confused  babblement  arose  from  the 
ruins,  and  then  the  universal  attention  came  back  to 
Graham,  perched  high  among  the  scaffolding.  He 
saw  the  faces  of  the  people  turned  towards  him,  heard 
their  shouts  at  his  rescue.  From  the  throat  of  the 
ways  came  the  song  of  the  revolt  spreading  like  a 
breeze  across  that  swaying  sea  of  men. 

The  little  group  of  men  about  him  shouted  con- 
gratulations on  his  escape.  The  man  in  yellow  was 
close  to  him,  with  a  set  face  and  shining  eyes.  And 
the  song  was  rising,  louder  and  louder;  tramp, tramp, 
tramp,  tramp. 

Slowly  the  realisation  came  of  the  full  meaning  of 
292 


THE  STRUGGLE  IN  THE  COUNCIL  HOUSE 

these  things  to  him,  the  perception  of  the  swift  change 
in  his  position.  Ostrog,  who  had  stood  beside  him 
whenever  he  had  faced  that  shouting  multitude  before, 
was  beyond  there  —  the  antagonist.  There  was  no 
one  to  rule  for  him  any  longer.  Even  the  people 
about  him,  the  leaders  and  organisers  of  the  multitude, 
looked  to  see  what  he  would  do,  looked  to  him  to  act, 
awaited  his  orders.  He  was  King  indeed.  His 
puppet  reign  was  at  an  end. 

He  was  very  intent  to  do  the  thing  that  was 
expected  of  him.  His  nerves  and  muscles  were  quiv- 
ering, his  mind  was  perhaps  a  little  confused,  but  he 
felt  neither  fear  nor  anger.  His  hand  that  had  been 
trodden  upon  throbbed  and  was  hot.  He  was  a  little 
nervous  about  his  bearing.  He  knew  he  was  not 
afraid,  but  he  was  anxious  not  to  seem  afraid.  In  his 
former  life  he  had  often  been  more  excited  in  playing 
games  of  skill.  He  was  desirous  of  immediate  action, 
he  knew  he  must  not  think  too  much  in  detail  of  the 
huge  complexity  of  the  struggle  about  him  lest  he 
should  be  paralysed  by  the  sense  of  its  intricacy. 
Over  there  those  square  blue  shapes,  the  flying  stages, 
meant  Ostrog;  against  Ostrog  he  was  fighting  for  the 
world. 


29J 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
WHILE   THE  AEROPLANES   WERE   COMING 

For  a  time  the  Master  of  the  Earth  was  not  even 
master  of  his  own  mind.  Even  his  will  seemed  a  will 
not  his  own,  his  own  acts  surprised  him  and  were  but 
a  part  of  the  confusion  of  strange  experiences  that 
poured  across  his  being.  These  things  were  definite, 
the  aeroplanes  were  coming,  Helen  Wotton  had 
warned  the  people  of  their  coming,  and  he  was  Master 
of  the  Earth,  Each  of  these  facts  seemed  struggling 
for  complete  possession  of  his  thoughts.  They  pro- 
truded from  a  background  of  swarming  halls,  elevated 
passages,  rooms  jammed  with  ward  leaders  in  council, 
kinematograph  and  telephone  rooms,  and  windows 
looking  out  on  a  seething  sea  of  marching  men.  The 
man  in  yellow,  and  men  whom  he  fancied  were  called 
Ward  Leaders,  were  either  propelling  him  forward 
or  following  him  obediently;  it  was  hard  to  tell.  Per- 
haps they  were  doing  a  little  of  both.  Perhaps  some 
power  unseen  and  unsuspected,  propelled  them  all. 
He  was  aware  that  he  was  going  to  make  a  proclama- 
tion to  the  People  of  the  Earth,  aware  of  certain 
grandiose  phrases  floating  in  his  mind  as  the  thing 
he  meant  to  say.  Many  little  things  happened,  and 
then  he  found  himself  with  the  man  in  yellow  entering 
a  little  room  where  this  proclamation  of  his  was  to  be 
made. 

294 


WHILE  THE  AEROPLANES  WERE  COMING 

This  room  was  grotesquely  latter-day  in  its  appoint- 
ments. In  the  centre  was  a  bright  oval  lit  by  shaded 
electric  lights  from  above.  The  rest  was  in  shadow, 
and  the  double  finely  fitting  doors  through  which  he 
came  from  the  swarming  Hall  of  the  Atlas  made  the 
place  very  still.  The  dead  thud  of  these  as  they  closed 
behind  him,  the  sudden  cessation  of  the  tumult  in 
which  he  had  been  living  for  hours,  the  quivering  cir- 
cle of  light,  the  whispers  and  quick  noiseless  move- 
ments of  vaguely  visible  attendants  in  the  shadows,  had 
a  strange  effect  upon  Graham.  The  huge  ears  of  a  pho- 
nographic mechanism  gaped  in  a  battery  for  his  words, 
the  black  eyes  of  great  photographic  cameras  awaited 
his  beginning,  beyond  metal  rods  and  coils  glittered 
dimly,  and  something  whirled  about  with  a  droning 
hum.  He  walked  into  the  centre  of  the  light,  and  his 
shadow  drew  together  black  and  sharp  to  a  little  blot 
at  his  feet. 

The  vague  shape  of  the  thing  he  meant  to  say  was 
already  in  his  mind.  But  this  silence,  this  isolation, 
the  sudden  withdrawal  from  that  contagious  crowd, 
this  silent  audience  of  gaping,  glaring  machines  had 
not  been  in  his  anticipation.  All  his  supports  seemed 
withdrawn  together;  he  seemed  to  have  dropped  into 
this  suddenly,  suddenly  to  have  discovered  himself.  In 
a  moment  he  was  changed.  He  found  that  he  now 
feared  to  be  inadequate,  he  feared  to  be  theatrical,  he 
feared  the  quality  of  his  voice,  the  quality  of  his  wit, 
astonished,  he  turned  to  the  man  in  yellow  with  a  pro- 
pitiatory gesture.  "  For  a  moment,"  he  said,  "  I  must 
wait.  I  did  not  think  it  would  be  like  this.  I  must 
think  of  the  thing  I  have  to  say. 

295 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

While  he  was  still  hesitating  there  came  an  agitated 
messenger  with  news  that  the  foremost  aeroplanes  were 
passing  over  Arawan. 

"  Arawan?  "  he  said.  "  Where  is  that?  But  anyhow, 
they  are  coming.    They  will  be  here.    When?" 

"  By  twilight." 

"  Great  God !  In  only  a  few  hours.  What  news  of 
the  flying  stages?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  people  of  the  south-west  wards  are  ready." 

"Ready!" 

He  turned  impatiently  to  the  blank  circles  of  the 
lenses  again. 

"  I  suppose  it  must  be  a  sort  of  speech.  Would  to 
God  I  knew  certainly  the  thing  that  should  be  said! 
Aeroplanes  at  Arawan!  They  must  have  started 
before  the  main  fleet.  And  the  people  only  ready! 
Surely     .      .      ." 

"  Oh !  what  does  it  matter  whether  I  speak  well  or 
ill?"  he  said,  and  felt  the  light  grow  brighter. 

He  had  framed  some  vague  sentence  of  democratic 
sentiment  when  suddenly  doubts  overwhelmed  him. 
His  belief  in  his  heroic  quality  and  calling  he  found  had 
altogether  lost  its  assured  conviction.  The  picture  of 
a  little  strutting  futility  in  a  windy  waste  of  incompre- 
hensible destinies  replaced  it.  Abruptly  it  waD  per- 
fectly clear  to  him  that  this  revolt  against  Ostrog  was 
premature,  foredoomed  to  failure,  the  impulse  of  pas- 
sionate inadequacy  against  inevitable  things.  He 
thought  of  that  swift  flight  of  aeroplanes  like  the  swoop 
of  Fate  towards  him.  He  was  astonished  that  he  could 
have  seen  things  in  any  other  light.  In  that  final 
emergency  he  debated,  thrust  debate  resolutely  aside, 

296 


WHILE  THE  AEROPLANES  WERE  COMING 

determined  at  all  costs  to  go  through  with  the  thing 
he  had  undertaken.  And  he  could  find  no  word  to 
begin.  Even  as  he  stood,  awkward,  hesitating,  with 
an  indiscrete  apology  for  his  inability  trembling  on  his 
lips,  came  the  noise  of  many  people  crying  out,  the 
running  to  and  fro  of  feet.  "  Wait,"  cried  someone, 
and  a  door  opened.  "  She  is  coming,"  said  the  voices. 
Graham  turned,  and  the  watching  lights  waned. 

Through  the  open  doorway  he  saw  a  slight  grey 
figure  advancing  across  a  spacious  hall.  His  heart 
leapt.  It  was  Helen  Wotton.  Behind  and  about  her 
marched  a  riot  of  applause.  The  man  in  yellow  came 
out  of  the  nearer  shadows  into  the  circle  of  light. 

"This  is  the  girl  who  told  us  what  Ostrog  had 
done,"  he  said. 

Her  face  was  aflame,  and  the  heavy  coils  of  her 
black  hair  fell  about  her  shoulders.  The  folds  of  the 
soft  silk  robe  she  wore  streamed  from  her  and  floated 
in  the  rhythm  of  her  advance.  She  drew  nearer  and 
nearer,  and  his  heart  was  beating  fast.  All  his  doubts 
were  gone.  The  shadow  of  the  doorway  fell  athwart 
her  face  and  she  was  near  him.  "  You  have  not 
betrayed  us?"  she  cried.     "You  are  with  us?" 

"Where  have  you  been?"  said  Graham. 

"At  the  office  of  the  south-west  wards.  Until  ten 
minutes  since  I  did  not  know  you  had  returned.  I 
went  to  the  office  of  the  south-west  wards  to  find  the 
Ward  Leaders  in  order  that  they  might  tell  the  people." 

"  I  came  back  so  soon  as  I  heard  — ." 

"  I  knew,"  she  cried,  "  knew  you  would  be  with  us. 
And  it  was  I  —  it  was  I  that  told  them.  They  have 
risen.     All   the   world   is   rising.     The   people   have 

297 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

awakened.  Thank  God  that  I  did  not  act  in  vain! 
You  are  Master  still." 

"  You  told  them  "  he  said  slowly,  and  he  saw  that  in 
spite  of  her  steady  eyes  her  lips  trembled  and  her 
throat  rose  and  fell. 

"  I  told  them.  I  knew  of  the  order.  I  was  here. 
I  heard  that  the  negroes  were  to  come  to  London  to 
guard  you  and  to  keep  the  people  down  —  to  keep 
you  a  prisoner.  And  I  stopped  it.  I  came  out  and 
told  the  people.     And  you  are  Master  still." 

Graham  glanced  at  the  black  lenses  of  the  cameras, 
the  vast  listening  ears,  and  back  to  her  face.  "  I  am 
Master  still/'  he  said  slowly,  and  the  swift  rush  of  a 
fleet  of  aeroplanes  passed  across  his  thoughts. 

"And  you  did  this?  You,  who  are  the  niece  of 
Ostrog." 

"For  you,"  she  cried.  "For  you!  That  you  for 
whom  the  world  has  waited  should  not  be  cheated  of 
your  power." 

Graham  stood  for  a  space,  wordless,  regarding  her. 
His  doubts  and  questionings  had  fled  before  her  pres- 
ence. He  remembered  the  thin_gs  that  he  had  meant 
to  say.  He  faced  the  cameras  again  and  the  light 
about  him  grew  brighter.  He  turned  again  towards 
her. 

"You  have  saved  me,"  he  said;  "you  have  saved 
my  power.  And  the  battle  is  beginning.  God  knows 
what  this  night  will  see  —  but  not  dishonour." 

He  paused.  He  addressed  himself  to  the  unseen 
multitudes  who  stared  upon  him  through  those  gro- 
tesque black  eyes.    At  first  he  spoke  slowly. 

"Men  and  women  of  the  new  age,"  he  said;  "You 
298 


WHILE  THE  AEROPLANES  WERE  COMING 

have  arisen  to  do  battle  for  the  race!  .  .  .  There 
is  no  easy  victory  before  us.'' 

He  stopped  to  gather  words.  The  thoughts  that 
had  been  in  his  mind  before  she  came  returned,  but 
transfigured,  no  longer  touched  with  the  shadow  of  a 
possible  irrelevance.  "This  night  is  a  beginning,"  he 
cried.  "This  battle  that  is  coming,  this  battle  that 
rushes  upon  us  to-night,  is  only  a  beginning.  All  your 
lives,  it  may  be,  you  must  fight.  Take  no  thought 
though  I  am  beaten,  though  I  am  utterly  overthrown." 

He  found  the  thing  in  his  mind  too  vague  for  words. 
He  paused  momentarily,  and  broke  into  vague  exhor- 
tations, and  then  a  rush  of  speech  came  upon  him. 
Much  that  he  said  was  but  the  humanitarian  common- 
place of  a  vanished  age,  but  the  conviction  of  his  voice 
touched  it  to  vitality.  He  stated  the  case  of  the  old 
days  to  the  people  of  the  new  age,  to  the  woman  at 
his  side.  "  I  come  out  of  the  past  to  you,"  he  said, 
"  with  the  memory  of  an  age  that  hoped.  My  age  was 
an  age  of  dreams  —  of  beginnings,  an  age  of  noble 
hopes;  throughout  the  world  we  had  made  an  end  of 
slavery ;  throughout  the  world  we  had  spread  the  desire 
and  anticipation  that  wars  might  cease,  that  all  men 
and  women  might  live  nobly,  in  freedom  and  peace. 
.  .  .  So  we  hoped  in  the  days  that  are  past.  And 
what  of  those  hopes?  How  is  it  with  man  after  two 
hundred  years? 

"  Great  cities,  vast  powers,  a  collective  greatness 
beyond  our  dreams.  For  that  we  did  not  work,  and 
that  has  come.  But  how  is  it  with  the  little  lives  that 
make  up  this  greater  life?  How  is  it  with  the  common 
lives?    As  it  has  ever  been  —  sorrow  and  labour,  lives 

299 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

cramped  and  unfulfilled,  lives  tempted  by  power, 
tempted  by  wealth,  and  gone  to  waste  and  folly.  The 
old  faiths  have  faded  and  changed,  the  new  faith — . 
Is  there  a  new  faith?" 

Things  that  he  had  long  wished  to  believe,  he  found 
that  he  believed.  He  plunged  at  belief  and  seized  it, 
and  clung  for  a  time  at  her  level.  He  spoke  gustily, 
in  broken  incomplete  sentences,  but  with  all  his  heart 
and  strength,  of  this  new  faith  within  him.  He  spoke 
of  the  greatness  of  self-abnegation,  of  his  belief  in  an 
immortal  life  of  Humanity  in  which  we  live  and  move 
and  have  our  being.  His  voice  rose  and  fell,  and  the 
recording  appliances  hummed  their  hurried  applause, 
dim  attendants  watched  him  out  of  the  shadow. 
Through  all  those  doubtful  places  his  sense  of  that 
silent  spectator  beside  him  sustained  his  sincerity. 
For  a  few  glorious  moments  he  was  carried  away;  he 
felt  no  doubt  of  his  heroic  quality,  no  doubt  of  his 
heroic  words,  he  had  it  all  straight  and  plain.  His 
eloquence  limped  no  longer.  And  at  last  he  made  an 
end  to  speaking.  "  Here  and  now,"  he  cried,  "  I  make 
my  will.  All  that  is  mine  in  the  world  I  give  to  the 
people  of  the  world.  All  that  is  mine  in  the  world  I 
give  to  the  people  of  the  world,  I  give  it  to  you,  and 
myself  I  give  to  you.  And  as  God  wills,  I  will  live  for 
you,  or  I  will  die." 

He  ended  with  a  florid  gesture  and  turned  about. 
He  found  the  light  of  his  present  exaltation  reflected 
in  the  face  of  the  girl.  Their  eyes  met;  her  eyes  were 
swimming  with  tears  of  enthusiasm.  They  seemed  to 
be  urged  towards  each  other.  They  clasped  hands 
and  stood  gripped,  facing  one  another,  in  an  eloquent 

300 


WHILE  THE  AEROPLANES  WERE  COMING 

silence.  She  whispered.  "  I  knew,"  she  whispered. 
"  I  knew."  He  could  not  speak,  he  crushed  her  hand 
in  his.    His  mind  was  the  theatre  of  gigantic  passions. 

The  man  in  yellow  was  beside  them.  Neither  had 
noted  his  coming.  He  was  saying  that  the  south-west 
wards  were  marching.  "  I  never  expected  it  so  soon," 
he  cried.  "  They  have  done  wonders.  You  must  send 
them  a  word  to  help  them  on  their  way." 

Graham  dropped  Helen's  hand  and  stared  at  him 
absent-mindedly.  Then  with  a  start  he  returned  to 
his  previous  preoccupation  about  the  flying  stages. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  That  is  good,  that  is  good."  He 
weighed  a  message.  "Tell  them;  —  well  done  South 
West." 

He  turned  his  eyes  to  Helen  Wotton  again.  His 
face  expressed  his  struggle  between  conflicting  ideas. 
"  We  must  capture  the  flying  stages,"  he  explained. 
"  Unless  we  can  do  that  they  will  land  negroes.  At  all 
costs  we  must  prevent  that." 

He  felt  even  as  he  spoke  that  this  was  not  what  had 
been  in  his  mind  before  the  interruption.  He  saw  a 
touch  of  surprise  in  her  eyes.  She  seemed  about  to 
speak  and  a  shrill  bell  drowned  her  voice. 

It  occurred  to  Graham  that  she  expected  him  to  lead 
these  marching  people,  that  that  was  the  thing  he  had 
to  do.  He  made  the  ofifer  abruptly.  He  addressed 
the  man  in  yellow,  but  he  spoke  to  her.  He  saw  her 
face  respond.     "  Here  I  am  doing  nothing,"  he  said. 

"It  is  impossible,"  protested  the  man  in  yellow. 
"  It  is  a  fight  in  a  warren.     Your  place  is  here." 

He  explained  elaborately.  He  motioned  towards 
the  room  where  Graham  must  wait,  he  insisted  no  other 

301 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

course  was  possible.  "  We  must  know  where  you 
are,"  he  said.  "  At  any  moment  a  crisis  may  arise 
needing  your  presence  and  decision."  The  room  was 
a  luxurious  little  apartment  with  news  machines  and 
a  broken  mirror  that  had  once  been  en  rapport  with  the 
crow's  nest  specula.  It  seemed  a  matter  of  course  to 
Graliam  that  Helen  should  stop  with  him. 

A  picture  had  drifted  through  his  mind  of  such  a 
vast  dramatic  struggle  as  the  masses  in  the  ruins  had 
suggested.  But  here  was  no  spectacular  battle-field 
such  as  he  imagined.  Instead  was  seclusion  —  and  sus- 
pense. It  was  only  as  the  afternoon  wore  on  that 
he  pieced  together  a  truer  picture  of  the  fight  that 
was  raging,  inaudibly  and  invisibly,  within  four 
miles  of  him,  beneath  the  Roehampton  stage.  A 
strange  and  imprecedented  contest  it  was,  a  battle 
that  was  a  hundred  thousand  little  battles,  a  battle 
in  a  sponge  of  ways  and  channels,  fought  out 
of  sight  of  sky  or  sun  under  the  electric  glare, 
fought  out  in  a  vast  confusion  by  multitudes  un- 
trained in  arms,  led  chiefly  by  acclamation,  multi- 
tudes dulled  by  mindless  labour  and  enervated  by  the 
tradition  of  two  hundred  years  of  servile  security 
against  multitudes  demoralised  by  lives  of  venial  privi- 
lege and  sensual  indulgence.  They  had  no  artillery, 
no  differentiation  into  this  force  or  that;  the  only 
weapon  on  either  side  was  the  little  green  metal  car- 
bine, whose  secret  manufacture  and  sudden  distribu- 
tion in  enormous  quantities  had  been  one  of  Ostrog's 
culminating  moves  against  the  Council.  Few  had  had 
any  experience  with  this  weapon,  many  had  never 
discharged  one,  many  who  carried  it  came  unprovided 

302 


WHILE  THE  AEROPLANES  WERE  COMING 

with  ammunition;  never  was  wilder  firing  in  the  his- 
tory of  warfare.  It  was  a  battle  of  amateurs,  a  hide- 
ous experimental  warfare,  armed  rioters  fighting 
armed  rioters,  armed  rioters  swept  forward  by  the 
words  and  fury  of  a  song,  by  the  tramping  sympathy 
of  their  numbers,  pouring  in  countless  myriads 
towards  the  smaller  ways,  the  disabled  lifts,  the  gal- 
leries slippery  with  blood,  the  halls  and  passages 
choked  with  smoke,  beneath  the  flying  stages,  to  learn 
there  when  retreat  was  hopeless  the  ancient  mysteries 
of  warfare.  And  overhead  save  for  a  few  sharpshoot- 
ers upon  the  roof  spaces  and  for  a  few  bands  and 
threads  of  vapour  that  multiplied  and  darkened  towards 
the  evening,  the  day  was  a  clear  serenity.  Ostrog  it 
seems  had  no  bombs  at  command  and  in  all  the  earlier 
phases  of  the  battle  the  aeropiles  played  no  part.  Not 
the  smallest  cloud  was  there  to  break  the  empty  bril- 
liance of  the  sky.  It  seemed  as  though  it  held  itself 
vacant  until  the  aeroplanes  should  come. 

Ever  and  again  there  was  news  of  these,  drawing 
nearer,  from  this  Mediterranean  port  and  then  that, 
and  presently  from  the  south  of  France.  But  of  the 
new  guns  that  Ostrog  had  made  and  which  were  known 
to  be  in  the  city  came  no  news  in  spite  of  Graham's 
urgency,  nor  any  report  of  successes  from  the  dense 
felt  of  fighting  strands  about  the  frying  stages.  Sec- 
tion after  section  of  the  Labour  Societies  reported  itself 
assembled,  reported  itself  marching,  and  vanished  from 
knowledge  into  the  labyrinth  of  that  warfare.  What 
was  happening  there?  Even  the  busy  ward  leaders  did 
not  know.  In  spite  of  the  opening  and  closing  of 
doors,  the  hasty  messengers,  the  ringing  of  bells  and 

303 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

the  perpetual  clitter-clack  of  recording  implements, 
Graham  felt  isolated,  strangely  inactive,  inoperative. 

Their  isolation  seemed  at  times  the  strangest,  the 
most  unexpected  of  all  the  things  that  had  happened 
since  his  awakening.  It  had  something  of  the  quality 
of  that  inactivity  that  comes  in  dreams.  A  tumult,  the 
stupendous  realisation  of  a  world  struggle  between 
Ostrog  and  himself,  and  then  this  confined  quiet  little 
room  with  its  mouthpieces  and  bells  and  broken 
mirror! 

Now  the  door  would  be  closed  and  they  were  alone 
together;  they  seemed  sharply  marked  off  then  from  all 
the  unprecedented  world  storm  that  rushed  together 
without,  vividly  aware  of  one  another,  only  concerned 
with  one  another.  Then  the  door  would  open  again, 
messengers  would  enter,  or  a  sharp  bell  would  stab 
their  quiet  privacy,  and  it  was  like  a  window  in  a  well 
built  brightly  lit  house  flung  open  suddenly  to  a  hurri- 
cane. The  dark  hurry  and  tumult,  the  stress  and 
vehemence  of  the  battle  rushed  in  and  overwhelmed 
them.  They  were  no  longer  persons  but  mere  specta- 
tors, mere  impressions  of  a  tremendous  convulsion. 
They  became  unreal  even  to  themselves,  miniatures  of 
personality,  indescribably  small,  and  the  two  antago- 
nistic realities,  the  only  realities  in  being  were  first  the 
city,  that  throbbed  and  roared  yonder  in  a  belated 
frenzy  of  defence  and  secondly  the  aeroplanes  hurling 
inexorably  towards  them  over  the  round  shoulder  ol 
the  world. 

At  first  their  mood  had  been  one  of  exalted  confi- 
dence, a  great  pride  had  possessed  them,  a  pride  in 
one  another  for  the  greatness  of  the  issues  they  had 

304 


WHILE  THE  AEROPLANES  WERE  COMING 

challenged.  At  first  he  had  walked  the  room  eloquent 
with  a  transitory  persuasion  of  his  tremendous  des- 
tiny. But  slowly  uneasy  intimations  of  their  coming 
defeat  touched  his  spirit.  There  came  a  long  period  in 
which  they  were  alone.  He  changed  his  theme, 
became  egotistical,  spoke  of  the  wonder  of  his  sleep,  of 
the  little  life  of  his  memories,  remote  y&t  minute  and 
clear,  like  something  seen  through  an  inverted  opera- 
glass,  and  all  the  brief  play  of  desires  and  errors  that 
had  made  his  former  life.  She  said  little,  but  the  emo- 
tion in  her  face  followed  the  tones  in  his  voice,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  he  had  at  last  a  perfect  understanding. 
He  reverted  from  pure  reminiscence  to  that  sense  of 
greatness  she  imposed  upon  him.  "  And  through  it 
all,  this  destiny  was  before  me,"  he  said;  "this  vast 
inheritance  of  which  I  did  not  dream." 

Insensibly  their  heroic  preoccupation  with  the  revo- 
lutionary struggle  passed  to  the  question  of  their  rela- 
.tionship.  He  began  to  question  her.  She  told  him  of 
the  days  before  his  awakening,  spoke  with  a  brief 
vividness  of  the  girlish  dreams  that  had  given  a  bias 
to  her  life,  of  the  incredulous  emotions  his  awakening 
had  aroused.  She  told  him  too  of  a  tragic  circum- 
stance of  her  girlhood  that  had  darkened  her  life, 
quickened  her  sense  of  injustice  and  opened  her  heart 
prematurely  to  the  wider  sorrows  of  the  world.  For  a 
little  time,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  the  great  war 
about  them  was  but  the  vast  ennobling  background 
to  these  personal  things. 

In  an  instant  these  personal  relations  were  sub- 
merged. There  came  messengers  to  tell  that  a  great 
fleet  of  aeroplanes  was  rushing  between  the  sky  and 

305  u 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

Avignon.  He  went  to  the  crystal  dial  in  the  corner 
and  assured  himself  that  the  thing  was  so.  He  went 
to  the  chart  room  and  consulted  a  map  to  measure  the 
distances  of  Avignon,  New  Arawan,  and  London.  He 
made  swift  calculations.  He  went  to  the  room  of  the 
Ward  Leaders  to  ask  for  news  of  the  fight  for  the 
stages  —  and  there  was  no  one  there.  After  a  time  he 
came  back  to  her. 

His  face  had  changed.  It  had  dawned  upon  him 
that  the  struggle  was  perhaps  more  than  half  over, 
that  Ostrog  was  holding  his  own,  that  the  arrival  of 
the  aeroplanes  would  mean  a  panic  that  might  leave 
him  helpless.  A  chance  phrase  in  the  message  had 
given  him  a  glimpse  of  the  reality  that  came.  Each  of 
these  soaring  giants  bore  its  thousand  half  savage 
negroes  to  the  death  grapple  of  the  city.  Suddenly 
his  humanitarian  enthusiasm  showed  fiimsy.  Only 
two  of  the  Ward  Leaders  were  in  their  room,  when 
presently  he  repaired  thither,  the  Hall  of  the  Atlas 
seemed  empty.  He  fancied  a  change  in  the  bearing 
of  the  attendants  in  the  outer  rooms.  A  sombre  dis- 
illusionment darkened  his  mind.  She  looked  at  him 
anxiously  when  he  returned  to  her. 

"  No  news,"  he  said  with  an  assumed  carelessness, 
in  answer  to  her  eyes. 

Then  he  was  moved  to  frankness.  "  Or  rather  — 
bad  news.  We  are  losing.  We  are  gaining  no  ground 
and  the  aeroplanes  draw  nearer  and  nearer." 

He  walked  the  length  of  the  room  and  turned. 

"  Unless  we  can  capture  those  flying  stages  in  the 
next  hour  —  there  will  be  horrible  things.  We  shall 
be  beaten." 

306 


WHILE  THE  AEROPLANES  WERE  COMING 

"  No!  "  she  said.  "  We  have  justice  —  we  have  the 
people.    We  have  God  on  our  side." 

"  Ostrog-  has  discipline  —  he  has  plans.  Do  you 
know,  out  there  just  now  I  felt — .  When  I  heard  that 
these  aeroplanes  were  a  stage  nearer.  I  felt  as  if  I 
were  fighting-  the  machinery  of  fate." 

She  made  no  answer  for  a  while.  "  We  have  done 
right,"  she  said  at  last. 

He  looked  at  her  doubtfully.    "  We  have  done  what 
we  could.    But  does  this  depend  upon  us?     Is  it  not  • 
an  older  sin,  a  wider  sin?"  ) 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked.  ' 

"These  blacks  are  savages,  ruled  by  force,  used  as 
force.  And  they  have  been  under  the  rule  of  the 
whites  two  hundred  years.  Is  it  not  a  race  quarrel? 
The  race  sinned  —  the  race  pays." 

"  But  these  labourers,  these  poor  people  of 
London  — ! " 

"  Vicarious  atonement.  To  stand  wrong  is  to  share 
the  guilt." 

She  looked  keenly  at  him,  astonished  at  the  new 
aspect  he  presented. 

Without  came  the  shrill  ringing  of  a  bell,  the  sound 
of  feet  and  the  gabble  of  a  phonographic  message. 
The  man  in  yellow  appeared.     "Yes?"  said  Graham. 

"  They  are  at  Vichy." 

"  Where  are  the  attendants  who  were  in  the  great 
Hall  of  the  Atlas?"  asked  Graham  abruptly. 

Presently  the  Babble  iMachine  rang  again.  "  We 
may  win  yet,"  said  the  man  in  yellow,  going  out  to  it. 
"If  only  we  can  find  where  Ostrog  has  hidden  his 

307 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

guns.  Everything  hangs  on  that  now.  Perhaps 
this  — " 

Graham  followed  him.  But  the  only  news  was  of 
the  aeroplanes.     They  had  reached  Orleans. 

Graham  returned  to  Helen.  "  No  news,"  he  said. 
"  No  news." 

"  And  we  can  do  nothing?  " 

"  Nothing." 

He  paced  impatiently.  Suddenly  the  swift  anger 
that  was  his  nature  swept  upon  him.  "  Curse  this 
complex  world!  "  he  cried,  "  and  all  the  inventions  of 
men!  That  a  man  must  die  like  a  rat  in  a  snare  and 
never  see  his  foe!    Oh,  for  one  blow!     ..." 

He  turned  with  an  abrupt  change  in  his  manner. 
"  That's  nonsense,"  he  said,     "  I  am  a  savage." 

He  paced  and  stopped.  "  After  all  London  and 
Paris  are  only  two  cities.  All  the  temperate  zone  has 
risen.  What  if  London  is  doomed  and  Paris 
destroyed?  These  are  but  accidents."  Again  came 
the  mockery  of  news  to  call  him  to  fresh  enquiries.  He 
returned  with  a  graver  faee  and  sat  down  beside  her. 

"  The  end  must  be  near,"  he  said.  "  The  people  it 
seems  have  fought  and  died  in  tens  of  thousands,  the 
ways  about  Roehampton  must  be  like  a  smoked  bee- 
hive. And  they  have  died  in  vain.  They  are  still  only 
at  the  sub  stage.  The  aeroplanes  are  near  Paris. 
Even  were  a  gleam  of  success  to  come  now,  there 
would  be  nothing  to  do,  there  would  be  no  time  to  do 
anything  before  they  were  upon  us.  The  guns  that 
might  have  saved  us  are  mislaid.  Mislaid!  Think  of 
the  disorder  of  things!  Think  of  this  foolish  tumult, 
that   cannot   even    find    its    weapons!     Oh,    for    one 

308 


WHILE  THE  AEROPLANES  WERE  COMING 

aeropile  — just  one!  For  the  want  of  that  I  am  beaten. 
Humanity  is  beaten  and  our  cause  is  lost!  My  king- 
ship, my  headlong  foolish  kingship  will  not  last  a 
night.    And  I  have  egged  on  the  people  to  fight  — ." 

"  They  would  have  fought  anyhow." 

"  I  doubt  it.     I  have  come  among  them  — " 

"  No,"  she  cried,  "  not  that.  If  defeat  comes  —  if 
you  die — .  But  even  that  cannot  be,  it  cannot  be, 
after  all  these  years." 

"  Ah!  We  have  meant  well.  But  —  do  you  indeed 
beheve — ?" 

"  If  they  defeat  you,"  she  cried,  "  you  have  spoken. 
Your  word  has  gone  like  a  great  wind  through  the 
world,  fanning  liberty  into  a  flame.  What  if  the  flame 
sputters  a  little!  Nothing  can  change  the  spoken 
word.    Your  message  will  have  gone  forth.      .    .     ." 

"  To  what  end?  It  may  be.  It  may  be.  You 
know  I  said,  when  you  told  me  of  these  things  —  dear 
God !  but  that  was  scarcely  a  score  of  hours  ago !  —  I 
said  that  I  had  not  your  faith.  Well  —  at  any  rate 
there  is  nothing  to  do  now.     .     .     ." 

"  You  have  not  my  faith!  Do  you  mean — ?  You 
are  sonyf  " 

"  No,"  he  said  hurriedly,  "  no !  Before  God  —  no!  " 
His  voice  changed.  "  But  — .  I  think  —  I  have  been 
indiscreet.  I  knew  little — I  grasped  too  hastily.  .    .  ." 

He  paused.  He  was  ashamed  of  this  avowal. 
"There  is  one  thing  that  makes  up  for  all.  I  have 
known  you.  Across  this  gulf  of  time  I  have  come  to 
you.  The  rest  is  done.  It  is  done.  With  you,  too, 
it  has  been  something  more  —  or  something  less  — " 

He  paused  with  his  face  searching  hers,  and  without 
309 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

clamoured  the  unheeded  message  that  the  aeroplanes 
were  rising  into  the  sky  of  Amiens. 

She  put  her  hand  to  her  throat,  and  her  lips  were 
white.  She  stared  before  her  as  if  she  saw  some  hor- 
rible possibility.  Suddenly  her  features  changed. 
"Oh,  but  I  have  been  honest!"  she  cried,  and  then, 
"Have  I  been  honest?  I  loved  the  world  and  free- 
dom, I  hated  cruelty  and  oppression.  Surely  it  was 
that." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  yes.  And  we  have  done  what  it 
lay  in  us  to  do.  We  have  given  our  message,  our 
message!  We  have  started  Armageddon!  But 
now — .  Now  that  we  have,  it  may  be  our  last  hour, 
together,  now  that  all  these  greater  things  are 
done.     .     .     ." 

He  stopped.  She  sat  in  silence.  Her  face  was  a 
white  riddle. 

For  a  moment  they  heeded  nothing  of  a  sudden  stir 
outside,  a  running  to  and  fro,  and  cries.  Then 
Helen  started  to  an  attitude  of  tense  attention.  "  It 
is  — ,"  she  cried  and  stood  up,  speechless,  incredulous, 
triumphant.  And  Graham,  too,  heard.  Metallic  voices 
were  shouting  "Victory!"  Yes  it  was  "Victory!" 
He  stood  up  also  with  the  light  of  a  desperate  hope 
in  his  eyes. 

Bursting  through  the  curtains  appeared  the  man  in 
yellow,  startled  and  dishevelled  with  excitement. 
"Victory,"  he  cried,  "victory!  The  people  are  win- 
ning.    Ostrog's  people  have  collapsed." 

She  rose.  "  Victory?  "  And  her  voice  was  hoarsQ 
and  faint. 

310 


WHILE  THE  AEROPLANES  WERE  COMING 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  asked  Graham.  "  Tell  me! 
PVhatr  " 

"  We  have  driven  them  out  of  the  under  galleries  at 
Norwood,  Streatham  is  afire  and  burning  wildly,  and 
Roehampton  is  ours.  Ours! —  and  we  have  taken  the 
aeropile  that  lay  thereon." 

For  an  instant  Graham  and  Helen  stood  in  silence, 
their  hearts  were  beating  fast,  they  looked  at  one  an- 
other. For  one  last  moment  there  gleamed  in  Gra- 
ham his  dream  of  empire,  of  kingship,  with  Helen  by 
his  side.    It  gleamed,  and  passed. 

A  shrill  bell  rang.  An  agitated  grey-headed  man 
appeared  from  the  room  of  the  Ward  Leaders.  "  It  is 
all  over,"  he  cried. 

"  What  matters  it  now  that  we  have  Roehampton? 
The  aeroplanes  have  been  sighted  at  Boulogne!" 

"The  Channel!"  said  the  man  in  yellow.  He  cal- 
culated swiftly.    "  Half  an  hour." 

"  They  still  have  three  of  the  flying  stages,"  said  the 
old  man. 

"Those  guns?"  cried  Graham. 

"  We  cannot  mount  them  —  in  half  an  hour." 

"  Do  you  mean  they  are  found?  " 

"  Too  late,"  said  the  old  man. 

"If  we  could  stop  them  another  hour!"  cried  the 
man  in  yellow. 

"  Nothing  can  stop  them  now,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  They  have  near  a  hundred  aeroplanes  in  the  first 
fleet." 

"  Another  hour?  "  asked  Graham. 

"  To  be  so  near !"  said  the  Ward  Leader.  "  Now 
3" 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

that  we  have  found  those  guns.     To  be  so  near — . 
If  once  we  could  get  them  out  upon  the  roof  spaces." 

"How  long  would  that  take?"  asked  Graham 
suddenly. 

"  An  hour  —  certainly." 

"  Too  late,"  cried  the  Ward  Leader,  "  too  late." 

"Is  it  too  late?"  said  Graham.  "Even  now — . 
An  hour!  " 

He  had  suddenly  perceived  a  possibility.  He  tried 
to  speak  calmly,  but  his  face  was  white.  "  There  is 
one  chance.     You  said  there  was  an  aeropile  — ?  " 

"  On  the  Roehampton  stage,  Sire." 

"Smashed?" 

"  No.  It  is  lying  crossways  to  the  carrier.  It  might 
be  got  upon  the  guides  —  easily.  But  there  is  no 
aeronaut  — ." 

Graham  glanced  at  the  two  men  and  then  at  Helen. 
He  spoke  after  a  long  pause.  "  We  have  no 
aeronauts?" 

"  None." 

"The  aeroplanes  are  clumsy,"  he  said  thoughtfully, 
"  compared  with  the  aeropiles." 

He  turned  suddenly  to  Helen.  His  decision  was 
made.    "  I  must  do  it." 

"Do  what?" 

"  Go  to  this  flying  stage  —  to  this  aeropile." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  I  am  an  aeronaut.  After  all  — .  Those  days  for 
which  you  reproached  me  were  not  altogether 
wasted." 

He  turned  to  the  old  man  in  yellow.  "  Tell  them  to 
put  the  aeropile  upon  the  guides." 

312 


WHILE  THE  AEROPLANES  WERE  COMING 

The  man  in  yellow  hesitated. 

"What  do  you  mean  to  do?"  cried  Helen. 

"This  aeropile  —  it  is  a  chance — ." 

"You  don't  mean — ?" 

"  To  fight  —  yes.  To  fight  in  the  air.  I  have 
thought  before — .  An  aeroplane  is  a  clumsy  thing. 
A  resolute  man  —  !  " 

"  But  —  never  since  flying  began  —  "  cried  the  man 
in  yellow. 

"  There  has  been  no  need.  But  now  the  time  has 
come.  Tell  them  now  —  send  them  my  message  —  to 
put  it  upon  the  guides." 

The  old  man  dumbly  interrogated  the  man  in  yel- 
low, nodded,  and  hurried  out. 

Helen  made  a  step  towards  Graham.  Her  face  was 
white.  "But  —  How  can  one  fight?  You  will  be 
killed." 

"  Perhaps.  Yet,  not  to  do  it  —  or  to  let  someone 
else  attempt  it — ." 

He  stopped,  he  could  speak  no  more,  he  swept  the 
alternative  aside  by  a  gesture,  and  they  stood  looking 
at  one  another. 

"  You  are  right,"  she  said  at  last  in  a  low  tone. 
"  You  are  right.  If  it  can  be  done.  .  .  .  You 
must  go." 

He  moved  a  step  towards  her,  and  she  stepped  back, 
her  white  face  struggled  against  him  and  resisted  him. 
"  No,"  she  gasped.    "  I  cannot  bear — .    Go  now." 

He  extended  his  hands  stupidly.  She  clenched  her 
fists.     "  Go  now,"  she  cried.     "  Go  now." 

He  hesitated  and  understood.  He  threw  his  hands 
3^3 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

up  in  a  queer  half-theatrical  gesture.  He  had  no  word 
to  say.    He  turned  from  her. 

The  man  in  yellow  moved  towards  the  door  "with 
clumsy  belated  tact.  But  Graham  stepped  past  him. 
He  went  striding  through  the  room  where  the  Ward 
Leader  bawled  at  a  telephone  directing  that  the  aeropile 
should  be  put  upon  the  guides. 

The  man  in  yellow  glanced  at  Helen's  still  figure, 
hesitated  and  hurried  after  him.  Graham  did  not  once 
look  back,  he  did  not  speak  until  the  curtain  of  the 
ante-chamber  of  the  great  Hall  fell  behind  him.  Then 
he  turned  his  head  with  curt  swift  directions  upon  his 
bloodless  lips. 


314 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
THE  COMING  OF  THE  AEROPLANES 

Two  men  in  pale  blue  were  lying  in  the  irregular 
line  that  stretched  along  the  edge  of  the  captured  Roe- 
hampton  stage  from  end  to  end,  grasping  their  car- 
bines and  peering  into  the  shadows  of  the  stage  called 
Wimbledon  Park.  Now  and  then  they  spoke  to  one 
another.  They  spoke  the  mutilated  English  of  their 
class  and  period.  The  fire  of  the  Ostrogites  had 
dwindled  and  ceased,  and  few  of  the  enemy  had  been 
seen  for  some  time.  But  the  echoes  of  the  fight  that 
was  going  on  now  far  below  in  the  lower  galleries  of 
that  stage,  came  every  now  and  then  between  the 
staccato  of  shots  from  the  popular  side.  One  of  these 
men  was  describing  to  the  other  how  he  had  seen  a 
man  down  below  there  dodge  behind  a  girder,  and  had 
aimed  at  a  guess  and  hit  him  cleanly  as  he  dodged  too 
far.  "  He's  down  there  still,"  said  the  marksman. 
"  See  that  little  patch.  Yes.  Between  those  bars." 
A  few  yards  behind  them  lay  a  dead  stranger,  face 
upward  to  the  sky,  with  the  blue  canvas  of  his  jacket 
smouldering  in  a  circle  about  the  neat  bullet  hole  on 
his  chest.  Close  beside  him  a  wounded  man,  with  a 
leg  swathed  about,  sat  with  an  expressionless  face  and 
watched  the  progress  of  that  burning.  Gigantic  behind 
them,  athwart  the  carrier  lay  the  captured  aeropile. 

315 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

"  I  can't  see  him  nozf ,"  said  the  second  man  in  a  tone 
of  provocation. 

The  marksman  became  foul-mouthed  and  high- 
voiced  in  his  earnest  endeavour  to  make  things  plain. 
And  suddenly,  interrupting  him,  came  a  noisy  shout- 
ing from  the  substage. 

"  What's  going  on  now,"  he  said,  and  raised  himself 
on  one  arm  to  stare  at  the  stairheads  in  the  central 
groove  of  the  stage.  A  number  of  blue  figures  were 
coming  up  these,  and  swarming  across  the  stage  to  the 
aeropile. 

"  We  don't  want  all  these  fools,"  said  his  friend. 
"  They  only  crowd  up  and  spoil  shots.  What  are  they 
after?" 

"  Ssh !  —  they're  shouting  something." 

The  two  men  listened.  The  swarming  new-comers 
had  crowded  densely  about  the  aeropile.  Three  Ward 
Leaders,  conspicuous  by  their  black  mantles  and 
badges,  clambered  into  the  body  and  appeared  above 
it.  The  rank  and  file  flung  themselves  upon  the  vans, 
gripping  hold  of  the  edges,  until  the  entire  outline  of 
the  thing  was  manned,  in  some  places  three  deep.  One 
of  the  marksmen  knelt  up.  "  They're  putting  it  on  the 
carrier  —  that's  what  they're  after." 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  his  friend  rose  also.  "  What's 
the  good?  "  said  his  friend.    "  We've  got  no  aeronauts." 

"  That's  what  they're  doing  anyhow."  He  looked  at 
his  rifle,  looked  at  the  struggling  crowd,  and  suddenly 
turning  to  the  wounded  man.  "  Mind  these,  mate,"  he 
said,  handing  his  carbine  and  cartridge  belt;  and  in  a 
moment  he  was  running  towards  the  aeropile.  For  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  he  was  a  perspiring  Titan,  lugging, 

316 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  AEROPLANES 

thrusting,  shouting  and  heeding  shouts,  and  then  the 
thing  was  done,  and  he  stood  with  a  multitude  of 
others  cheering  their  own  achievement.  By  this  time 
he  knew,  what  indeed  everyone  in  the  city  knew,  that 
the  Master,  raw  learner  though  he  was,  intended  to  fly 
this  machine  himself,  was  coming  even  now  to  take 
control  of  it,  would  let  no  other  man  attempt  it,  "  He 
who  takes  the  greatest  danger,  he  who  bears  the 
heaviest  burthen,  that  man  is  King,"  so  the  Master 
was  reported  to  have  spoken.  And  even  as  this 
man  cheered,  and  while  the  beads  of  sweat  still 
chased  one  another  from  the  disorder  of  his  hair,  he 
heard  the  thunder  of  a  greater  tumult,  and  in  fitful 
snatches  the  beat  and  impulse  of  the  revolutionary 
song.  He  saw  through  a  gap  in  the  people  that  a  thick 
stream  of  heads  still  poured  up  the  stairway.  "The 
Master  is  coming,"  shouted  voices,  "  the  Master  is 
coming,"  and  the  crowd  about  him  grew  denser  and 
denser.  He  began  to  thrust  himself  towards  the  cen- 
tral groove.  "The  Master  is  coming!"  "The  Sleeper, 
the  Master!"  "God  and  the  Master!"  roared  the 
voices. 

And  suddenly  quite  close  to  him  were  the  black  uni- 
forms of  the  revolutionary  guard,  and  for  the  first  and 
last  time  in  his  life  he  saw  Graham,  saw  him  quite 
nearly.  A  tall,  dark  man  in  a  flowing  black  robe,  with 
a  white,  resolute  face  and  eyes  fixed  steadfastly  before 
him;  a  man  who  for  all  the  little  things  about  him 
had  neither  ears  nor  eyes  nor  thoughts.  .  .  .  For 
all  his  days  that  man  remembered  the  passing  of  Gra- 
ham's bloodless  face.  In  a  moment  it  had  gone  and 
he  was  fighting  in  the  swaying  crowd.     A  lad  weep- 

317 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

ing  with  terror  thrust  against  him,  pressing  towards 
the  stairways,  yelHng  "Clear  for  the  aeropile!"  The 
bell  that  clears  the  flying  stage  became  a  loud  unmelo- 
dious  clanging. 

With  that  clanging  in  his  ears  Graham  drew  near 
the  aeropile,  marched  into  the  shadow  of  its  tilting 
wing.  He  became  aware  that  a  number  of  people 
about  him  were  offering  to  accompany  him,  and  waved 
their  offers  aside.  He  wanted  to  think  how  one 
started  the  engine.  The  bell  clanged  faster  and  faster, 
and  the  feet  of  the  retreating  people  roared  faster  and 
louder.  The  man  in  yellow  was  assisting  him  to  mount 
through  the  ribs  of  the  body.  He  clambered  into  the 
aeronaut's  place,  fixing  himself  very  carefully  and 
deliberately.  What  was  it?  The  man  in  yellow  was 
pointing  to  two  aeropiles  driving  upward  in  the  south- 
ern sky.  No  doubt  they  were  looking  for  the  coming 
aeroplanes.  That  —  presently  —  the  thing  to  do  now 
was  to  start.  Things  were  being  shouted  at  him,  ques- 
tions, warnings.  They  bothered  him.  He  wanted  to 
think  about  the  aeropile,  to  recall  every  item  of  his 
previous  experience.  He  waved  the  people  from  him, 
saw  the  man  in  yellow  dropping  off  through  the  ribs, 
saw  the  crowd  cleft  down  the  line  of  the  girders  by  his 
gesture. 

For  a  moment  he  was  motionless,  staring  at  the 
levers,  the  wheel  by  which  the  engine  shifted,  and  all 
the  delicate  appliances  of  which  he  knew  so  little.  His 
eye  caught  a  spirit  level  with  the  bubble  towards  him, 
and  he  remembered  something,  spent  a  dozen  seconds 
in  swinging  the  engine  forward  until  the  bubble  floated 
in  the  centre  of  the  tube.     He  noted  that  the  people 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  AEROPLANES 

were  not  shouting,  knew  they  watched  his  deHberation. 
A  bullet  smashed  on  the  bar  above  his  head.  Who 
fired?  Was  the  line  clear  of  people?  He  stood  up  to 
see  and  sat  down  again. 

In  another  second  the  propeller  was  spinning,  and 
he  was  rushing  down  the  guides.  He  gripped  the 
wheel  and  swung  the  engine  back  to  lift  the  stem. 
Then  it  was  the  people  shouted.  In  a  moment  he  was 
throbbing  with  the  quiver  of  the  engine,  and  the  shouts 
dwindled  swiftly  behind,  rushed  down  to  silence. 
The  wind  whistled  over  the  edges  of  the  screen,  and 
the  world  sank  away  from  him  very  swiftly. 

Throb,  throb,  throb  —  throb,  throb,  throb;  up  he 
drove.  He  fancied  himself  free  of  all  excitement,  felt 
cool  and  deliberate.  He  lifted  the  stem  still  more, 
opened  one  valve  on  his  left  wing  and  swept  round  and 
up.  He  looked  down  with  a  steady  head,  and  up.  One 
of  the  Ostrogite  aeropiles  was  driving  across  his  course, 
so  that  he  drove  obliquely  towards  it  and  would  pass 
below  it  at  a  steep  angle.  Its  little  aeronauts  were 
peering  down  at  him.  What  did  they  mean  to  do? 
His  mind  became  active.  One,  he  saw  held  a  weapon 
pointing,  seemed  prepared  to  fire.  What  did  they 
think  he  meant  to  do?  In  a  moment  he  understood 
their  tactics,  and  his  resolution  was  taken.  His 
momentary  lethargy  was  past.  He  opened  two  more 
valves  to  his  left,  swung  round,  end  on  to  this  hostile 
machine,  closed  his  valves,  and  shot  straight  at  it,  stem 
and  wind-screen  shielding  him  from  the  shot.  They 
tilted  a  little  as  if  to  clear  him.    He  flung  up  his  stem. 

Throb,  throb,  throb  — pause  — throb,  throb  — 
he  set  his  teeth,  his  face  into  an  involuntary  grimace, 

319 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

and  crash!  He  struck  it!  He  struck  upward  beneath 
the  nearer  wing. 

Very  slowly  the  wing  of  his  antagonist  seemed  to 
broaden  as  the  impetus  of  his  blow  turned  it  up.  He 
saw  the  full  breadth  of  it  and  then  it  slid  downward  out 
of  his  sight. 

He  felt  his  stem  going  down,  his  hands  tightened  on 
the  levers,  whirled  and  rammed  the  engine  back.  He 
felt  the  jerk  of  a  clearance,  the  nose  of  the  machine 
jerked  upward  steeply,  and  for  a  moment  he  seemed 
to  be  lying  on  his  back.  The  machine  was  reeling  and 
staggering,  it  seemed  to  be  dancing  on  its  screw.  He 
made  a  huge  effort,  hung  for  a  moment  on  the  levers, 
and  slowly  the  engine  came  forward  again.  He 
was  driving  upward  but  no  longer  so  steeply.  He 
gasped  for  a  moment  and  flung  himself  at  the 
levers  again.  The  wind  whistled  about  him.  One 
further  effort  and  he  was  almost  level.  He  could 
breathe.  He  turned  his  head  for  the  first  time  to  see 
what  had  become  of  his  antagonists.  Turned  back  to 
the  levers  for  a  moment  and  looked  again.  For  a 
moment  he  could  have  believed  they  were  annihilated. 
And  then  he  saw  between  the  two  stages  to  the  east 
was  a  chasm,  and  down  this  something,  a  slender  edge, 
fell  swiftly  and  vanished,  as  a  sixpence  falls  down  a 
crack. 

At  first  he  did  not  understand,  and  then  a  wild  joy 
possessed  him.  He  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  an 
inarticulate  shout,  and  drove  higher  and  higher  up  the 
sky.  Throb,  throb,  throb,  pause,  throb,  throb,  throb. 
"  Where  was  the  other  aeropile?  "  he  thought.  "  They 
too — ."    As  he  looked  round  the  empty  heavens  he 

320 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  AEROPLANES 

had  a  momentary  fear  that  this  machine  had  risen 
above  him,  and  then  he  saw  it  ahghting  on  the  Nor- 
wood stage.  They  had  meant  shooting.  To  risk  being 
rammed  headlong  two  thousand  feet  in  the  air  was 
beyond  their  latter-day  courage.  The  combat  was 
declined. 

For  a  little  while  he  circled,  then  swooped  in  a  steep 
descent  towards  the  westward  stage.  Throb  throb 
throb,  throb  throb  throb.  The  twilight  was  creeping 
on  apace,  the  smoke  from  theStreatham  stage  that  had 
been  so  dense  and  dark,  was  now  a  pillar  of  fire,  and 
all  the  laced  curves  of  the  moving  ways  and  the  trans- 
lucent roofs  and  domes  and  the  chasms  between  the 
buildings  were  glowing  softly  now,  lit  by  the  tempered 
radiance  of  the  electric  light  that  the  glare  of  the 
day  overpowered.  The  three  efificient  stages  that  the 
Ostrogites  held  —  for  Wimbledon  Park  was  useless 
because  of  the  fire  from  Roehampton,  and  Streatham 
was  a  furnace  —  were  glowing  with  guide  lights  for 
the  coming  aeroplanes.  As  he  swept  over  the  Roe- 
hampton stage  he  saw  the  dark  masses  of  the  people 
thereon.  He  heard  a  clap  of  frantic  cheering,  heard  a 
bullet  from  the  Wimbledon  Park  stage  tweet  through 
the  air,  and  went  beating  up  above  the  Surrey  wastes. 
He  felt  a  breath  of  wind  from  the  south-west,  and 
lifted  his  westward  wing  as  he  had  learnt  to  do,  and 
so  drove  upward  heeling  into  the  rare  swift  upper  air. 
Throb  throb  throb  —  throb  throb  throb. 

Up  he  drove  and  up,  to  that  pulsating  rhythm,  until 
the  country  beneath  was  blue  and  indistinct,  and  Lon- 
don spread  like  a  little  map  traced  in  light,  like  the 
mere  model  of  a  city  near  the  brim  of  the  horizon. 

321  X 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

The  south-west  was  a  sky  of  sapphire  over  the  shad- 
owy rim  of  the  world,  and  ever  as  he  drove  upward  the 
multitude  of  stars  increased. 

And  behold!  In  the  southward,  low  down  and 
glittering-  swiftly  nearer,  were  two  little  patches  of 
nebulous  light.  And  then  two  more,  and  then  a  nebu- 
lous glow  of  swiftly  driving  shapes.  Presently  he 
could  count  them.  There  were  four  and  twenty.  The 
first  fleet  of  aeroplanes  had  come!  Beyond  appeared 
a  yet  greater  glow. 

He  swept  round  in  a  half  circle,  staring  at  this  ad- 
vancing fleet.  It  flew  in  a  wedge-like  shape,  a  triangu- 
lar flight  of  gigantic  phosphorescent  shapes  sweeping 
nearer  through  the  lower  air.  He  made  a  swift  cal- 
culation of  their  pace,  and  spun  the  little  wheel 
that  brought  the  engine  forward.  He  touched 
a  lever  and  the  throbbing  effort  of  the  engine 
ceased.  He  began  to  fall,  fell  swifter  and  swifter.  He 
aimed  at  the  apex  of  the  wedge.  He  dropped  like  a 
stone  through  the  whistling  air.  It  seemed  scarce  a 
second  from  that  soaring  moment  before  he  struck  the 
foremost  aeroplane. 

No  man  of  all  that  black  multitude  saw  the  coming 
of  his  fate,  no  man  among  them  dreamt  of  the  hawk 
that  struck  downward  upon  him  out  of  the  sky.  Those 
who  were  not  limp  in  the  agonies  of  air-sickness,  were 
craning  their  black  necks  and  staring  to  see  the  filmy 
city  that  was  rising  out  of  the  haze,  the  rich  and 
splendid  city  to  which  "  Massa  Boss  "  had  brought 
their  obedient  muscles.  Bright  teeth  gleamed  and  the 
glossy  faces  shone.    They  had  heard  of  Paris.    They 

322 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  AEROPLANES 

knew  they  were  to  have  lordly  times  among  the  "  poor 
white  "  trash.    And  suddenly  Graham  struck  them. 

He  had  aimed  at  the  body  of  the  aeroplane,  but  at 
the  very  last  instant  a  better  idea  had  flashed  into  his 
mind.  He  twisted  about  and  struck  near  the  edge  of 
the  starboard  wing  with  all  his  accumulated  weight. 
He  was  jerked  back  as  he  struck.  His  prow  went 
gliding  across  its  smooth  expanse  towards  the  rim. 
He  felt  the  forward  rush  of  the  huge  fabric  sweeping 
him  and  his  aeropile  along  with  it,  and  for  a  moment 
that  seemed  an  age  he  could  not  tell  what  was  hap- 
pening. He  heard  a  thousand  throats  yelling,  and 
perceived  that  his  machine  was  balanced  on  the  edge 
of  the  gigantic  float,  and  driving  down,  down;  glanced 
over  his  shoulder  and  saw  the  backbone  of  the 
aeroplane  and  the  opposite  float  swaying  up.  He  had 
a  vision  through  the  ribs  of  sliding  chairs,  staring 
faces,  and  hands  clutching  at  the  tilting  guide  bars. 
The  fenestrations  in  the  further  float  flashed  open  as 
the  aeronaut  tried  to  right  her.  Beyond,  he  saw  a 
second  aeroplane  leaping  steeply  to  escape  the  whirl 
of  its  heeling  fellow.  The  broad  area  of  swaying 
wings  seemed  to  jerk  upward.  He  felt  his  aeropile 
had  dropped  clear,  that  the  monstrous  fabric,  clean 
overturned,  hung  like  a  sloping  wall  above  him. 

He  did  not  clearly  understand  that  he  had  struck 
the  side  float  of  the  aeroplane  and  slipped  off,  but  he 
perceived  that  he  was  flying  free  on  the  down  glide 
and  rapidly  nearing  earth.  What  had  he  done?  His 
heart  throbbed  like  a  noisy  engine  in  his  throat  and 
for  a  perilous  instant  he  could  not  move  his  levers 
because  of  the  paralysis  of  his  hands.     He  wrenched 

323 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

the  levers  to  throw  his  engine  back,  fought  for  two 
seconds  against  the  weight  of  it,  felt  himself  righting, 
driving  horizontally,  set  the  engine  beating  again. 

He  looked  upward  and  saw  two  aeroplanes  glide 
shouting  far  overhead,  looked  back,  and  saw  the  main 
body  of  the  fleet  opening  out  and  rushing  upward  and 
outward;  saw  the  one  he  had  struck  fall  edgewise  on 
and  strike  like  a  gigantic  knife-blade  along  the  wind- 
wheels  below  it. 

He  put  down  his  stern  and  looked  again.  He  drove 
up  heedless  of  his  direction  as  he  watched.  He  saw 
the  wind-vanes  give,  saw  the  huge  fabric  strike  the 
earth,  saw  its  downward  vans  crumple  with  the  weight 
of  its  descent,  and  then  the  whole  mass  turned  over 
and  smashed,  upside  down,  upon  the  sloping  wheels. 
Throb,  throb,  throb,  pause.  Suddenly  from  the  heav- 
ing wreckage  a  thin  tongue  of  white  fire  licked  up 
towards  the  zenith.  And  then  he  was  aware  of  a 
huge  mass  flying  through  the  air  towards  him,  and 
turned  upwards  just  in  time  to  escape  the  charge  —  if 
it  was  a  charge  —  of  a  second  aeroplane.  It  whirled 
by  below,  sucked  him  down  a  fathom,  and  nearly 
turned  him  over  in  the  gust  of  its  close  passage. 

He  became  aware  of  three  others  rushing  towards 
him,  aware  of  the  urgent  necessity  of  beating  above 
them.  Aeroplanes  were  all  about  him,  circling  wildly 
to  avoid  him,  as  it  seemed.  They  drove  past  him, 
above,  below,  eastward  and  westward.  Far  away  to 
the  westward  was  the  sound  of  a  collision,  and  two 
falling  flares.  Far  away  to  the  southward  a  second 
squadron  was  coming.  Steadily  he  beat  upward. 
Presently  all  the  aeroplanes  were  below  him,  but  for  a 

324 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  AEROPLANES 

moment  he  doubted  the  height  he  had  of  them,  and  did 
not  swoop  again.  And  then  he  came  down  upon  a 
second  victim  and  all  its  load  of  soldiers  saw  him  com- 
ing. The  big  machine  heeled  and  swayed  as  the  fear- 
maddened  men  scrambled  to  the  stern  for  their 
weapons.  A  score  of  bullets  sung  through  the  air,  and 
there  flashed  a  star  in  the  thick  glass  wind-screen 
that  protected  him.  The  aeroplane  slowed  and 
dropped  to  foil  his  stroke,  and  dropped  too  low.  Just 
in  time  he  saw  the  wind-wheels  of  Bromley  hill  rush- 
ing up  towards  him,  and  spun  about  and  up  as  the 
aeroplane  he  had  chased  crashed  among  them.  All  its 
voices  wove  into  a  felt  of  yelling.  The  great  fabric 
seemed  to  be  standing  on  end  for  a  second  among  the 
heeling  and  splintering  vans,  and  then  it  flew  to  pieces. 
Huge  splinters  came  flying  through  the  air,  its  engines 
burst  like  shells.  A  hot  rush  of  flame  shot  overhead 
into  the  darkling  sky. 

"  Two!"  he  cried,  with  a  bomb  from  overhead  burst- 
ing as  it  fell,  and  forthwith  he  was  beating  up  again. 
A  glorious  exhilaration  possessed  him  now,  a  g^ant 
activity.  His  troubles  about  humanity,  about  his  inad- 
equacy, were  gone  for  ever.  He  was  a  man  in  battle 
rejoicing  in  his  power.  Aeroplanes  seemed  radiating 
from  him  in  every  direction,  intent  only  upon  avoiding 
him,  the  yelling  of  their  packed  passengers  came  in 
short  gusts  as  they  swept  by.  He  chose  his  third 
quarry,  struck  hastily  and  did  but  turn  it  on  edge.  It 
escaped  him,  to  smash  against  the  tall  clifiF  of  London 
wall.  Flying  from  that  impact  he  skimmed  the  dark- 
ling ground  so  nearly  he  could  see  a  frightened  rabbit 
bolting  up  a  slope.     He  jerked  up  steeply,  and  found 

325 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

himself  driving  over  south  London  with  the  air  about 
him  vacant.  To  the  right  of  him  a  wild  riot  of  signal 
rockets  from  the  Ostrogites  banged  tumultuously  in 
the  sky.  To  the  south  the  wreckage  of  half  a  dozen 
air  ships  flamed,  and  east  and  west  and  north  the  air 
ships  fled  before  him.  They  drove  away  to  the  east 
and  north,  and  went  about  in  the  south,  for  they  could 
not  pause  in  the  air.  In  their  present  confusion  any 
attempt  at  evolution  would  have  meant  disastrous  col- 
lisions. He  could  scarcely  realize  the  thing  he  had 
done.  In  every  quarter  aeroplanes  were  receding. 
They  were  receding.  They  dwindled  smaller  and 
smaller.     They  were  in  flight! 

He  passed  two  hundred  feet  or  so  above  the  Roe- 
hampton  stage.  It  was  black  with  people  and  noisy 
with  their  frantic  shouting.  But  why  was  the  Wim- 
bledon Park  stage  black  and  cheering,  too?  The 
smoke  and  flame  of  Streatham  now  hid  the  three  fur- 
ther stages.  He  curved  about  and  rose  to  see  them 
and  the  northern  quarters.  First  came  the  square 
masses  of  Shooter's  Hill  into  sight  from  behind  the 
smoke,  lit  and  orderly  with  the  aeroplane  that  had 
landed  and  its  disembarking  negroes.  Then  came 
Blackheath,  and  then  under  the  corner  of  the  reek  the 
Norwood  stage.  On  Blackheath  no  aeroplane  had 
landed  but  an  aeropile  lay  upon  the  guides.  Nor- 
wood was  covered  by  a  swarm  of  little  figures  running 
to  and  fro  in  a  passionate  confusion.  Why?  Abruptly 
he  understood.  The  stubborn  defence  of  the  flying 
stages  was  over,  the  people  were  pouring  into  the 
under-ways    of    these    last    strongholds    of    Ostrog's 

usurpation.    And  then,  from  far  away  on  the  northern 

326 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  AEROPLANES 

border  of  the  city,  full  of  glorious  import  to  him,  came 
a  sound,  a  signal,  a  note  of  triumph,  the  leaden  thud 
of  a  gun.  His  lips  fell  apart,  his  face  was  disturbed 
with  emotion. 

He  drew  an  immense  breath.  "They  win,"  he 
shouted  to  the  empty  air;  "the  people  win!"  The 
sound  of  a  second  gun  came  like  an  answer.  And 
then  he  saw  the  aeropile  on  Blackheath  was  running 
down  its  guides  to  launch.  It  lifted  clean  and  rose. 
It  shot  up  into  the  air,  driving  straight  southward  and 
away  from  him. 

In  an  instant  it  came  to  him  what  this  meant.  It 
must  needs  be  Ostrog  in  flight.  He  shouted  and 
dropped  towards  it.  He  had  the  momentum  of  his 
elevation  and  fell  slanting  down  the  air  and  very 
swiftly.  It  rose  steeply  at  his  approach.  He  allowed 
for  its  velocity  and  drove  straight  upon  it. 

It  suddenly  became  a  mere  flat  edge,  and  behold!  he 
was  past  it,  and  driving  headlong  down  with  all  the 
force  of  his  futile  blow. 

He  was  furiously  angry.  He  reeled  the  engine  back 
along  its  shaft  and  went  circling  up.  He  saw  Ostrog's 
machine  beating  up  a  spiral  before  him.  He  rose 
straight  towards  it,  won  above  it  by  virtue  of  the 
impetus  of  his  swoop  and  by  the  advantage  and 
weight  of  a  man.  He  dropped  headlong  —  dropped 
and  missed  again !  As  he  rushed  past  he  saw  the  face 
of  Ostrog's  aeronaut  confident  and  cool  and'  in 
Ostrog's  attitude  a  wincing  resolution.  Ostrog  was 
looking  steadfastly  away  from  him  —  to  the  south. 
He  realized  with  a  gleam  of  wrath  how  bungling  his 

327 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES 

flight  must  be.    Below  he  saw  the  Croyden  hills.    He 
jerked  upward  and  once  more  he  gained  on  his  enemy. 

He  glanced  over  his  shoulder  and  his  attention  was 
arrested  by  a  strange  thing.  The  eastward  stage,  the 
one  on  Shooter's  Hill,  appeared  to  Hft;  a  flash  chang- 
ing to  a  tall  grey  shape,  a  cowled  figure  of  smoke  and 
duct,  jerked  into  the  air.  For  a  moment  this  cowled 
figure  stood  motionless,  dropping  huge  masses  of 
metal  from  its  shoulders,  and  then  it  began  to  uncoil  a 
dense  head  of  smoke.  The  people  had  blown  it  up, 
aeroplane  and  all!  As  suddenly  a  second  flash  and 
grey  shape  sprang  up  from  the  Norwood  stage.  And 
even  as  he  stared  at  this  came  a  dead  report,  and  the 
air  wave  of  the  first  explosion  struck  him.  He  was 
flung  up  and  sideways. 

For  a  moment  the  aeropile  fell  nearly  edgewise  with 
her  nose  down,  and  seemed  to  hesitate  whether  to 
overset  altogether.  He  stood  on  his  wind-shield 
wrenching  the  wheel  that  swayed  up  over  his  head. 
And  then  the  shock  of  the  second  explosion  took  his 
machine  sideways. 

He  found  himself  clingfing  to  one  of  the  ribs  of  his 
machine,  and  the  air  was  blowing  past  him  and 
upward.  He  seemed  to  be  hanging  quite  still  in  the 
air,  with  the  wind  blowing  up  past  him.  It  occurred 
to  him  that  he  was  falling.  Then  he  was  sure  that  he 
was  falling.     He  could  not  look  down. 

He    found    himself    recapitulating   with    incredible 
swiftness  all  that  had  happened  since  his  awakening,  _ 
the  days  of  doubt  the  days  of  Empire,  and  at  last  the 
tumultuous  discovery  of  Ostrog's  calculated  treachery,| 

328 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  AEROPLANES 

He  was  beaten  but  London  was  saved.  London  was 
saved ! 

The  thought  had  a  quaHty  of  utter  unreaHty.  Who 
was  he?  Why  was  he  holding  so  tightly  with  his 
hands?  Why  could  he  not  leave  go?  In  such  a  fall  as 
this  countless  dreams  have  ended.  But  in  a  moment 
he  would  wake.     .     .     . 

His  thoughts  ran  swifter  and  swifter.  He  wondered 
if  he  should  see  Helen  again.  It  seemed  so  unreason- 
able that  he  should  not  see  her  again.  It  must  be  a 
dream!  Yet  surely  he  would  meet  her.  She  at  least 
was  real.  She  was  real.  He  would  wake  and  meet 
her. 

Although  he  could  not  look  at  it,  he  was  suddenly 
aware  that  the  earth  was  very  near. 


THE    END 


Printed  by  BaI.LANTYNF.,   HaNSON  &■  CO. 
Edinburgh  &■  London 


CALL  NUMBER 


Vol. 


Date  (for  periodical) 


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